


Same Bones

by loveinkwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Brotherly Love, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, First Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some Humor, Young Love, mostly canon, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinkwell/pseuds/loveinkwell
Summary: A WolfStar, Remus/Sirius fic:Two boys arrived at Hogwarts never truly knowing home. This is the story of how they found it: in a secret brotherhood, in mischief managed, in wands lit under bed-sheet forts in the dark of night, in each other. Underneath the rough fur, the sharp teeth and bright eyes, this is how they came to know that they shared the same bones.





	1. Parents

Orion and Walburga Black strode across Platform 9 and ¾ with intention in their step. Trailing along beside them, guided by Walburga's firm hand on his shoulder, was their firstborn son, Sirius. Other witches and wizards milled about around them, but the Blacks barely afforded them a glance. The crowd seemed subconsciously to shift apart and let them through wherever they passed.

When the Hogwarts Express came into view, Sirius had had enough of his mother. He stopped walking and wriggled out from under her grip. "Mum, please," he muttered. "You don't have to walk me like a dog. I'm not a child."

"Well, you certainly aren't a man," Walburga retorted. "If you want to go unsupervised in public, you'll have to stop setting off those wretched Dungbombs everywhere."

A grin flashed across Sirius's face, but it quickly disappeared when the boy caught sight of his father's stern expression. "I agree with your mother, Sirius," Orion said. "You are representing the Black family at Hogwarts now. The time for childish pranks and jokes is past. You're entering wizarding society, and along with that comes a certain degree of responsibility."

"Especially in these times," Walburga added. She dropped the volume of her voice down an octave until Sirius could barely hear her, but rather than leaning in closer to his mother, he only rolled his eyes. He already knew what she was going to say, because she'd said it a million times before. "Lots of things are changing in the world, Sirius. You're too young to understand right now, but trust us. Make the right friends. Gain favor with the right families. One day, it will benefit you."

Sirius sighed. "Yes, Mum."

It wasn't worth giving her any cheek, as he usually did when she prattled on with her tiresome lectures. He didn't want to make a scene on the train platform in front of so many people. And besides, he wouldn't see his parents for four whole months until the winter hols. He didn't want his last memory with them to be an argument. Sirius knew it wasn't proper for an eleven-year-old boy to cry, but if he was being honest with himself, the thought of getting on the train and speeding off to school alone was just a tiny bit scary. He wanted to throw his arms around his mum and dad and squeeze hard. But of course, neither his mum nor his dad would respond favorably to that kind of behavior. Sirius couldn't remember the last time his parents had given him or his younger brother, Regulus, a hug.

Walburga tapped Sirius on the back with the palm of her hand. "Stand up straight," she commanded. Sirius bit back a retort and grudgingly drew his shoulders back. He allowed his mum to tug at his new school robes, still stiff out of the box, until the wrinkles fell away.

"Alright, son, time to get on the train," Orion said. "Remember, try to find your cousin Cissy. She'll help you choose a good compartment to sit in."

Sirius shrugged, but his parents had turned around to retrieve his trunk and hadn't noticed his lukewarm response. His luggage had followed them across the platform on a small handcart pushed by their surly house elf.

The elf was now hiding behind the cart, glaring at the crowd. Sirius bent down to address him. "Kreacher, thank you for bringing my trunk."

Walburga immediately recoiled. "Sirius," she hissed under her breath. "How many times must I tell you?  _If you are not giving orders, you are not to speak to house elves_."

Sirius ignored his mother. "So long, Kreacher," he added politely.

"Farewell, Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked dutifully, but said no more under the cold gaze of his mistress.

Orion sighed and shook his head. He heaved his son's trunk into the nearest train car, and gave Sirius a firm push in the same direction. "Go on, then. Make us proud."

"Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad." Sirius lingered on the stairs of the train car for a moment, looking from his mother to his father. Orion only gave him a short nod before turning on his heel and heading back across the platform, his cloak billowing out behind him. His mother cast one more glance at her son and then quickly followed.

Sirius blinked a few times, trying to shake away a hazy feeling of confusion. He had spent so much time in the shadow of his parents – rolling his eyes and defying them in small ways just to annoy them, sure, but he had still shaped his whole life around what they thought and said and did. But now, they were just…gone. Without them, the sudden freedom was bewildering. What should he do? He could do anything. Who should he be? He could be anyone.

The thought was enough to make his heart pound, but he didn't have time to think. The train blew a loud horn, the first warning horn signaling that the train would leave the station in a few minutes. Sirius turned and began to wander down the train car corridor, in search of something, but he wasn't sure what.

* * *

Lyall and Hope Lupin were rushing to make the train. They barreled down the walkway at King's Cross Station, pushing a cart laden with luggage in front of them. A pale, sandy-haired boy – their son Remus – jogged alongside them, munching on a bar of chocolate.

Out of nowhere, a stern-looking man stepped out into their path. Lyall pulled back on the cart to avoid colliding with him, and the wheels squeaked to a stop mere centimeters from the man's shiny leather shoes.

The man rounded on the couple. "Watch where you're going," he snarled. The look of irritation on his face deepened into disgust when he recognized who had nearly hit him. "A blood traitor like you should make way for those of us who don't disgrace wizardkind, Lupin."

"Lyall, do you know this man?" Hope turned to her husband. She was a Muggle, which was what wizards like her husband called non-magical folk. She had had the shock of her life at age 26, when the wonderful man she'd been dating finally revealed that he was part of a hidden subculture of wizards who could do real magic. Twelve years and one son later, the surprises kept on coming. She'd gotten used to asking many questions whenever the magical world was concerned.

Lyall glared at the man with his jaw set. "Unfortunately," he muttered. "This is—"

"Orion!" A woman hurried up beside the stern-looking man. "What's the matter?" She caught sight of the Lupins and her expression turned sour.

"I'm sorry," Hope tried, "we didn't mean to nearly knock you over. We are just rushing to make a train – it's Remus's first day of school." She nodded to Remus, who was silently observing the interaction from several feet away.

"Don't speak to me," the man called Orion snapped, glaring at a point a few inches above Hope's head. "You aren't fit to escort your half-blood son to the Hogwarts Express. You can't even get through the barrier to see him off."

Hope, taken aback by his animosity, fell silent. A small, indignant grunt emanated from Remus, and his hands clenched angrily, crushing the chocolate bar he was holding.

"Enough," Lyall snarled. "We don't have to stand here and listen to your ignorant drivel, Black. Come on, let's go. We can't miss the train." He shoved his luggage cart forward into the crowd without a backward glance at the other couple.

Remus said nothing of the incident and followed his parents through the station until they were standing next to a clear expanse of brick between Platforms 9 and 10.

"This is where your mum has to leave us," his father said quietly. "Only witches and wizards can pass through this wall."

Remus turned to his mother. She had a sad smile on her face, one that flickered with worry as she noticed the crushed remains of his chocolate bar still clenched in his fist. She reached out and carefully pried his fingers open and freed the chocolate fragments. "You mustn't lose your temper at school, Remus," she said, clasping his hand. "Headmaster Dumbledore has done this family a great service, allowing you to attend. You know this. Don't take it for granted. We all want you to do well."

Remus avoided his mother's eyes and looked down at his shoes instead. "I don't lose my temper," he mumbled. It had been six years since he was turned into a werewolf, but he still felt ashamed whenever his parents talked to him like this. Like he was carrying a monster within his chest that could burst forth at any moment. Like he was a bomb, and he could only prevent detonation by carefully monitoring himself.

His mother and father certainly monitored him at home: checking in on him, standing at the window watching him ride his bicycle up and down the street, even coming into his room at night to observe him when they thought he was sleeping. Remus was tired of being treated like this. He knew his parents only thought they were managing his condition, but it made him feel like a creature. Something alien and unknowable to his parents and to all the other witches and wizards he would soon meet.

He was almost certain that, deep down, even if they didn't want to admit it, his parents were somewhat afraid of their only child. And if that was the case, then there was really no hope for making real friends at Hogwarts: everyone who found out he was a werewolf would only feel the same way.

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and busied himself saying goodbye to his mother rather than continue down that train of thought. It was something he'd worried about since the day his Hogwarts letter arrived, but he hadn't told his parents. He rarely shared his thoughts with his parents. They both always seemed worried as it was; he didn't need to add to their troubles further.

"If we don't go now, we'll miss the train," his father said. "Now, Remus, remember what I told you? Run at the wall, as fast as you can. Follow me, and don't hesitate – just believe that you can run through it, and you will."

Hope watched incredulously as her husband and son bolted toward a solid brick wall with the luggage cart. She cringed, bracing for impact, but once they reached the barrier, they disappeared.

The Hogwarts Express was sounding its final warning horn as Lyall and Remus crossed onto the platform. They raced up to the nearest train car and Remus jumped inside, dragging his trunk up behind him with some difficulty. His father gave the trunk a boost and then reached up to clap him on the shoulder.

"Good luck at Hogwarts, son," Lyall said. "You'll enjoy it. Just…be good, and take care of yourself."

Remus sighed. "Don't worry, Dad. I will." But he didn't have much hope. Between his furry little problem that not even a mother could love, and the hatred of wizards born to non-magical parents that he'd just witnessed, he didn't stand a chance.


	2. Names

Sirius didn't bother to find his cousin Narcissa on the train. He didn't know her very well at all; they only saw each other at the family parties his mother threw, and she never spoke more than a few words to him or Regulus. A sixth-year at Hogwarts, she was five years older and Sirius had always considered her one of the adults, rather than his friend. Part of it was the age difference, yes, but she also acted mature all the time, as if she was above being a kid. She spent a lot of time at parties chatting with Sirius's mother and aunts, nodding her bright blonde head along with whatever they were saying.

Sirius snorted. Of course his mum would ask Perfect Cousin Cissy to watch out for him at school. But he didn't need a babysitter, especially one who would probably tattle to his mum the minute he stepped a toe out of line.

His arm was getting sore from dragging his heavy trunk down the aisle, but many of the compartments he passed were already full. Some were crowded with younger students, laughing and shouting. Sirius thought he heard a muffled explosion somewhere on his left, the telltale sign of one of his favorite games, Exploding Snap. (Sirius had once singed an eyebrow off of his mum's face with an unfortunately timed explosion, and he cherished the memory of how her usual stern expression had seemed rather lopsided for a week afterward.)

Other compartments, he saw through the glass doors, held only two people: a boy and a girl, usually older students, always snogging. Sirius stuck out his tongue to himself, disgusted. It was difficult for him to understand why any boy would voluntarily spend time swapping spittle with a girl.

Finally, he came upon a compartment that was mostly empty. Only one boy who looked about Sirius's age sat inside. His nose was pressed up against the window and he was staring at the blooms of steam passing by. Sirius slid the glass door open and dragged his trunk over the threshold.

"Hello," he said politely. "May I join you?"

The boy turned his head. He had round glasses that were slightly fogged from the chill of the window, and he squinted through them to peer at Sirius. "Hello!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Of course, go right ahead! There's nobody sitting in here – I'm new at Hogwarts, don't know anybody else. I'm just starting first year now."

Sirius was a bit taken aback by the energetic response. Nobody he knew, not his parents or their friends, not Regulus, not even the younger kids he spent family parties with, spoke with such loud enthusiasm. "So am I," he said. He slid onto the bench seat across from the other boy, but kept a reasonable distance.

"Great!" The boy grinned again at Sirius. "I'm James – what's your name?"

"Sirius Black." Sirius couldn't help but puff out his chest a tad. He knew that his last name would be well known at Hogwarts, and that his family was considered one of the oldest and most important families in the Wizarding world. It was why other witches and wizards had stepped aside to make way for his parents on the platform at King's Cross, and why his family owned more house elves than the other Wizarding families he knew, and why the Gringotts goblins bowed more deeply to his father than they ever did otherwise. The Blacks had loads of gold and everybody seemed to respect them. It was no fun to be a Black, really, but Sirius knew he was still very fortunate to be one.

To Sirius's surprise, though, the other boy seemed to wrinkle his nose at the sound of his name. "Oh," he said, the enthusiasm in his voice waning significantly. "I'm James  _Potter_."

Sirius balked. The Potters were one of a few families that his parents despised. His father was always going on at the dinner table about how the Potters – along with the Prewetts, Longbottoms, and McKinnons, other frequent targets of his father's tirades – were defying tradition and bringing about the downfall of Wizarding society with their bleeding-heart views on Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. Only two weeks ago, Orion had stormed home in a rage because the Potters had sponsored a slew of Muggle-protection legislation in the Wizengamot.

"Alright then," he said rather stiffly, and proceeded to stare at the compartment wall in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw that James was still looking at him. Barely three seconds passed in thick silence before James began to kick his legs restlessly, banging his heels against his trunk, which was tucked underneath his seat. Barely three more seconds passed before James also began to hum, a slightly off-tune version of a song Sirius recognized from listening to the wireless.

Sirius grunted and slid down into a slouch that would've made his mother cringe. This compartment was turning out to be a lot noisier than he expected. But it would be impolite to simply flee and find another place to sit now, and this was still better than being with Cissy and her uptight friends.

The train blared its final, loudest warning horn, and both James and Sirius jumped. Their startled eyes connected and Sirius felt the corners of his mouth twitching at the look on the other boy's face. James's eyes were wide behind his glasses and his black hair seemed to stand on end. Sirius had never seen someone look so much like a deer in headlights.

James seemed encouraged by Sirius's smile, however wan. "Blimey, that was loud," he said to Sirius sheepishly. "I reckon this train is the biggest I've ever seen. I don't see trains often, you know – only when I come into London with Mum and Dad. This is the first time I've ridden one." He paused only long enough to draw a breath. "You ever ride a train before?"

Sirius stared at him. James had clearly never spent a moment of his life quietly. But before Sirius could answer, the train rumbled and lurched forward down the tracks, their compartment door slid open again, and another boy tumbled inside.

"Sorry," the new boy panted, wiping beads of sweat from his dark blond hairline. He was pale, even paler than Sirius, and looked rather sickly. His skin was so translucent that Sirius could follow the blue veins that ran down his neck and disappeared under the collar of his shirt. "I had to run to make the train. Can I—can I sit here?"

"Sure, mate!" James replied. His grin was back. "You a first-year, too?"

The new boy dragged his trunk into the compartment next to Sirius's and slumped onto the seat next to him, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah," he gasped out. "You two are as well, then? I'm Remus, Remus Lupin."

"Lupin…" Sirius mused. "I've never heard of that name before."

"Well, having a well-known name isn't everything," James cut in, his voice cold and his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

Sirius looked up and swallowed, embarrassed. He'd barely realized he was talking out loud, but now the two boys were watching him. His mum often went on about his bad habit of speaking before thinking, and Sirius supposed she probably had a point. "Sorry," he said, wriggling a little in his seat. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just meant—usually my dad—"

"It's okay," Remus said quietly, holding his hand up to stop the apology. "My family lives far outside London. We don't really see a lot of other wizards." He sounded calm, but a wrinkle had appeared on his forehead.

The boys lapsed into a momentary uncomfortable silence again. Once more, James was the one to break it. "Well, Remus, you're welcome to sit here. I'm James Potter, and this is Sirius Black."

Remus nodded at the two boys but didn't make additional conversation. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a tattered-looking paperback book with yellowing pages. He peeled open the book, put his feet up on the seat across from him, and began to read.

For a few minutes, Sirius let his eyes wander around the compartment and out to the city scenes streaking by the window. His eyes eventually landed back onto Remus, and he noticed that as Remus got more and more absorbed in his book, the wrinkle on his forehead faded away and then altogether vanished.

 

* * *

 

Before long, James was bored again. The views of London streets outside the compartment window had transitioned first into industrial parks and lumberyards, and then into rolling hills and sleepy rows of houses snaking their way between them, and then finally into the flat, green pasture of the countryside. Now, it seemed that the same scene – same fence, same trees, same cows – had flashed across the glass window and then rotated back to appear again and again for the past twenty minutes.

James had begun to fidget, mindlessly kicking his feet against his trunk again. He wanted to talk about Hogwarts with the other two boys, or play games, or trade Chocolate Frog cards,  _anything_  to pass the time. But Remus was still engrossed in his book, and James wasn't entirely sure he wanted much to do with Sirius. He'd heard before that the Black family was batty, stuck up, and famous for dabbling in the Dark Arts. Sirius didn't seem that bad, though – a little stiff, maybe, but he  _did_  apologize for what he'd said to Remus.

"I'm bored," James finally declared aloud when he could bear it no longer. He looked from Sirius to Remus, and back again. "Want to play some Exploding Snap?"

Remus looked up and shook his head with a kind smile, but James saw Sirius's face light up. "Sure!" Sirius said.

James grinned and reached under his seat for a leather backpack. He dug around inside for a moment before extracting a deck of cards. "I should warn you, Sirius, I'm pretty good at this. I spent all summer practicing with my gran, and last week, I won thirty-six games in a row against her."

"Well, I'm nobody's gran," Sirius retorted, barking out a laugh. A moment later, he glanced up at James with a concerned look on his face, as if the comment had escaped him against his better judgment. But James was laughing, too.

"I guess we'll see who's the gran soon enough!"

The two boys whipped out their wands and held them close, focusing deeply on the deck of cards. Tiny wisps of smoke were already starting to curl out from underneath the bottom of the stack. It wasn't long before a small explosion sent the cards flying everywhere, and James let out a triumphant yell.

"Rematch," Sirius demanded at once.

"You sure you don't want to play?" James asked Remus, who'd started to peek intermittently at them over the top of his book when the deck of cards had begun to throw out bright sparks.

Remus shook his head again. "I – I don't know how," he said.

"Really?" James sounded shocked. "But  _everyone_  knows how to play Exploding Snap!"

"I know. I've seen those cards around, in Diagon Alley and such. I just never learned." A hint of tension crept into Remus's easy, quiet voice. "My parents – they didn't let me have them. They don't like giving me anything that might startle me."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at this odd comment. "Well, we can teach you now," he offered. "It's not too hard and it's loads of fun."

"Yeah, and with a newbie playing this round, Sirius actually might not lose again!"

"Stuff it, James!"

James howled as Sirius jabbed him deftly in the ribs with the tip of his wand. He rolled away from him towards the window and all three boys burst into laughter. James was delighted to see that Sirius was openly grinning from ear to ear now, his previous walls of stiffness and decorum seeming to crumble. Sirius didn't stop grinning, even when Remus turned out to be a natural at Exploding Snap, and Sirius lost the next four games and had to shake flakes of soot out of his long, dark hair.

 

* * *

 

A few hours went by before a voice sounded from out in the corridor. "Sweets and snacks here! Get your sweets and snacks here!" A kindly looking witch, pushing a large cart in front of her, rolled up alongside their compartment. She eased the door open and stuck her head inside.

"First-years?" she asked, smiling at them. They nodded. "Anything from the trolley, dears? I have Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Bertie's Beans, Chocolate Frogs…"

Sirius and James jumped up, diving into their pockets for stray coins. They clamored with excitement to place their orders with the trolley witch. But Remus stayed seated. In fact, he slouched down into the bench, as if hoping it would swallow him whole, and his cheeks were tinged pink. "No, thank you," he muttered.

"You're not hungry?" James asked. His voice was muffled by a large bite he'd already taken from the Pumpkin Pasty he ripped open on the spot. A few tiny crumbs shot out from between his lips. Sirius watched him in mild amazement before carefully pulling the wrapper off one of his own pies and taking a small, neat bite.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks." Remus picked at a loose thread in his jumper, looking everywhere but at the other two boys.

The trolley witch continued down the hallway, and there was no sound within the compartment but James's soft munching. Sirius followed the motions of Remus's fingers and noticed, for the first time, that Remus's clothing had seen better days. He wasn't yet changed into his school robes, but his casual clothing looked rather worn. On one knee of his jeans was a patch, and on the other knee was a hole in need of patching. His jumper was too large for him.

Remus must have realized where Sirius was looking, because his fingers froze and he crossed his arms over his chest. Sirius suddenly felt a bit silly, with his crisp new school robes and what he knew was a full bag of Black family gold sitting in his trunk. He looked down at the small mountain of snacks that lay on the seat beside him.

"Here, have a Chocolate Frog," Sirius said, tossing the box over to Remus before he could object. "I can't eat all of them alone – I got these to share with you two, anyway."

Remus caught the Frog in his lap. Any discomfort with accepting the offered sweet disappeared as he watched Sirius toss another Frog at James. James was bent over, busy tearing open another wrapper, and the box soared swiftly across the compartment, headed straight for his glasses. Sirius opened his mouth to warn him, but before he could utter a sound, James miraculously reached out and grabbed the Frog out of midair, mere millimeters from his nose.

"Merlin!" Sirius exclaimed. "How did you do that? You were looking the other way!"

James grinned. "You haven't seen anything yet," he said, his voice rather smug. "Dad says I can throw and catch better than any other eleven-year-old he's seen. He gave me a practice Snitch for my birthday and he's been helping me work on my Quidditch skills. I want to try out for my House team, probably next year."

"Why not this year?" Remus asked through a bite of Chocolate Frog. Maybe it was just Sirius's imagination, but it seemed like the snack was doing him good. Remus's complexion seemed to brighten and he was smiling.

"First-years aren't allowed to have their own brooms at school," James grumbled. It was obvious this was a sore spot with him. "I don't want to try out without my broom. I won't be as good as I usually am. That rule is such rubbish - how am I supposed to get any good if I can't practice with my own broom?"

"I'd help you practice anytime!" Sirius piped in with enthusiasm. "I love flying, but I don't do it much."

Living right in the heart of London, Sirius never had his own broomstick. Whenever his parents visited his great-uncle at his country house in the summer, he was allowed to fly around a nearby field with Regulus on a couple of old brooms. These days, it was about the only time he and his brother didn't bicker constantly. It hadn't always been that way – they were good friends once. But as they got older and their parents' expectations of them grew more stringent, the brothers were growing apart. Sirius rebelled against his parents' avalanche of restrictions, while Regulus retreated into them and had become a most insufferable tattletale.

"Sure, we can go out onto the pitch and practice together on the weekends. Then you can try out, too!" James said. "Maybe we'll get to play on the team together!"

"Or maybe you'll be playing  _against_  each other," Remus mused. "Each House has their own team, don't they? How do you know you'll be in the same House?"

The other two boys froze. The thought clearly hadn't crossed their minds until now.

"I dunno, I guess we might not be," Sirius said quietly.

"I've thought a lot about what House I might be in," Remus continued. "I read all about them over the summer in  _Hogwarts, A History_. I imagine it's a good bet that I end up in Ravenclaw, but I suppose Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad, either."

"Well, Dad thinks I'll be Sorted into Gryffindor, like he was," James commented. "But Mum disagrees – she was a Ravenclaw and she thinks I'll be clever in my classes, like she was. She told me she got Os on all her N.E.W.T.s!"

"Those specs do make you look pretty booky," Sirius teased, trying to cover up his falling face as he suddenly realized that he most likely wouldn't keep his fun new friends for long. There had only been a handful of Blacks in the past few hundred years that weren't placed in Slytherin House, and Sirius knew his parents wouldn't be happy if he ended up anywhere else.

Remus seemed to sense the shadow of melancholy that flickered in Sirius's eyes, because he smiled kindly at him and then changed the subject back to Quidditch. James, who was busy with tearing into yet another sweet and happy to return to chattering cheerfully about Quidditch, didn't notice.

The train continued to hurtle down the track, toward the setting sun, toward the castle, toward the Sorting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all - I know this First Train Ride is a little different from what's shown in the books, but I couldn't resist the chance to trap the boys together in a compartment for a whole day and do some character development. Not to worry, you'll meet Peter, Lily, and Snape soon enough! As always, feedback is much appreciated!


	3. Friends

            Remus stood next to James within the huddle of first-year students still standing at the front of the Great Hall, waiting for their turn with the Sorting Hat. The severe-looking witch in charge of the Sorting, Professor McGonagall, was peering at her long roll of parchment in search of the next name. Samantha Jordan had just been Sorted, and Remus felt his stomach take a small dive. They were nearly to the “L”s.

            About thirty of the seventy new students had already tried on the hat, been Sorted into a House, and taken their seats at one of the four long tables stretching the length of the Hall. This included Sirius, one of the earliest students called. Remus had watched as Sirius broke away from the pack and strode smoothly toward McGonagall, his robes billowing out behind him. Unlike the other first-years, who were all twitchy with nerves, Sirius seemed stony and emotionless. Remus could have sworn that, in the moment right before his eyes disappeared beneath the ratty brim of the oversized Hat, Sirius glanced straight at him and James.

            The Hat had remained silent over Sirius’s head for what seemed like an eternity. Several of the students sitting closest had begun to peer under the Hat in concern – Remus supposed they’d never seen a Sorting take this long – before the Hat finally blurted out, “ _GRYFFINDOR_!”

            Whispers had erupted immediately throughout the Great Hall. But Sirius hadn’t moved from the stool, and Remus noticed that his fists were clenched around handfuls of his robes. Several seconds passed before McGonagall reached over and whipped the Hat off of his head. Her stern expression had been replaced by a small, bemused smile as she looked down at Sirius, who was still sitting on the stool.

            “Go on, Mr. Black,” she’d whispered. “Gryffindor – that’s my House.” She gave him a firm push in the back toward the table decorated in scarlet and gold, and Sirius obeyed, his eyes looking a bit unfocused.

            “There’s never been a Black in Gryffindor before!” a nearby voice had hissed in amazement. Fleetingly Remus had wondered why this mattered so much, and why the name Black sounded suddenly familiar to him. But before he could put his finger on it, McGonagall had turned toward the whispering students with a thin-lipped frown and shushed them sternly. Then she’d called up the next first-year, Martina Boot.

            McGonagall’s voice rang out again, and it brought Remus back to the present. “Remus Lupin!”

            Remus swallowed hard and weaved through the crowd toward the stool. His cheeks burned as he stared out at the hundreds of faces in the Hall staring back at him – he’d never been such a center of attention before and he was finding he really disliked the feeling. It was almost a relief when McGonagall slipped the hat over his eyes and he was enveloped in a silent darkness.

            _“Rather shy, are we?”_ a quiet voice said in his ear.

            Remus jumped. _“Not really,”_ he thought defensively.

            The Hat chuckled. _“You can’t fool me, Remus Lupin. I can see your innermost thoughts, your dreams, your deepest wishes… Ah, but of course, you already know that. You’ve read about me in_ Hogwarts, A History. _You read quite a lot for a boy of your age.”_

            Remus didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure where the Hat was going with this.

            “ _Your books are your only friends, aren’t they?”_ the Hat asked _._

Remus blanched. A searing knot of humiliation choked its way up his windpipe, and he sputtered. The sour taste of acid filled his mouth. “ _That’s not my fault,”_ he thought through gritted teeth _. “I can’t help what I am.”_

            _“No, but you do desire more,”_ the Hat mused. _“You are well-suited to Ravenclaw, but you would not be happy there. You long for a pack of your own. You seek justice, compassion, and a sense of belonging…these are things that you know not.”_

_“I didn’t realize you’d be so unkind,”_ Remus grumbled, rather hurt.

            _“It’s not my job to be kind,”_ the Hat said. _“It’s my job to determine where you will fit and thrive at Hogwarts. And for you, Remus Lupin, I believe it better be…”_

_“_ GRYFFINDOR!”

            Before Remus could say another word to the Hat, McGonagall whipped it off of Remus’s head. The Great Hall and its hundreds of faces appeared again in front of him suddenly. The scarlet and gold table where Sirius now sat, looking solemn, had erupted into loud cheers. The noise echoed off of the walls in the cavernous Hall and created a ruckus. Remus peered into the crowd, blinking in the bright chaos. Several of the older students were gesturing for Remus to approach the Gryffindor table, grinning widely.

            Bewildered, he stumbled off the stool and down the aisle. A few Gryffindors reached out to clap him on the back or shoulder as he passed. He dropped down into the seat next to Sirius.

            “Looks like we’re in the same House, mate,” Remus said to him, his spirits lifting slightly. The acrid shame he’d felt underneath the Hat, with his mind open and vulnerable to its dissection, was beginning to dissipate. Gryffindor House seemed warm and friendly, and he would know at least one of his new Housemates. Things were looking up.

            Sirius, on the other hand, seemed rather gloomy. He nodded politely to Remus but said nothing else, even when, ten minutes later, James Potter was also sorted into Gryffindor. They watched as James popped the Hat off of his own head, handed it to McGonagall with a wide grin, and jogged easily down the aisle toward them.

            “I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed as soon as he joined them, sliding into the seat on Remus’s other side. “What were the chances that we’re all in the same House?” He looked at Sirius. “Now we can train for Quidditch together – this is brilliant!”

            Sirius’s smile was wan, but he nodded. “Sure, mate.”

            By the time the rest of the first-years had been Sorted, Remus’s stomach was grumbling with such force that he was sure the rest of the Gryffindors could hear it. He hadn’t eaten much all day since breakfast, except for a couple pieces of chocolate. The room fell silent and all heads turned to the long table at the front of the Hall, where a tall, thin wizard with a long grey beard was rising to his feet.

            “That’s Dumbledore,” Remus heard James breathe in his ear. “Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Blimey, he’s old! I’ve only ever seen pictures of him in the Prophet!”

            Headmaster Dumbledore began to speak in a quiet voice that nonetheless seemed to carry to every corner of the Hall. “Good evening students, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As I’m sure you are eager for supper, I will keep my opening remarks brief. As most of you know, your time here at Hogwarts can be quite delightful, or it can be quite painful. I have been informed by the gamekeeper that Professor Kettleburn, your Care of Magical Creatures teacher, has added several dangerous creatures to the Forbidden Forest’s stock. The Forest is, of course, off-limits to any student not accompanied by an adult. Furthermore, over the summer we have also planted a rather energetic tree, a Whomping Willow, on the edge of the Forest. Therefore, I must remind you to stay within school boundaries at all times, lest you end up in the care of our dear Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing.

            “On a more pleasant note, Madam Hooch has asked me to announce that Quidditch House team tryouts will be held in two weeks, with signup sheets and current vacancies posted in each common room. The year’s match schedule will be released as soon as all spots are filled.”

            James jostled Remus and Sirius with his elbows excitedly.

            “I thought you weren’t trying out until next year,” Remus pointed out in a whisper.

            James shrugged and shot him a pompous grin. “Maybe I’ll change my mind. I won’t be top notch on some dusty old school broom, but I might still have a shot, depending on the competition.”

            On the dais, Dumbledore continued. “Finally, I will ask all our House prefects to stand up for a moment.” A handful of older students around the room shuffled to their feet. Remus only had time to identify a stocky male prefect with a friendly face at the Gryffindor table, and another male prefect with long, bright blond hair at the neighboring Slytherin table, before the prefects took their seat again. “Please remember that these House prefects are your big brothers and sisters here at Hogwarts. They are your first line of defense for any question or concern, big or small.”

            Dumbledore turned to gesture at the other teachers sitting at the high table on either side of him. “Consider your Head of House, too, a parent from whom you can always seek help. Will the Heads of House please rise?”

            The stern witch in charge of Sorting, Professor McGonagall, stood up. So did a portly witch with rosy cheeks, a very short young wizard who had to stand on his chair to be seen above the table, and a greying wizard in deep green robes with a round belly. The witch with the rosy cheeks waved cheerfully at the Hufflepuff table, while the round-bellied wizard winked at the Slytherins.

            “Unsettling though recent events outside the castle may be,” Dumbledore concluded as the Heads took their seats, “I wish to remind you that, within these walls, you are safe and with family. And now, please, we feast.”

            “What does he mean, recent events?” Remus asked James and Sirius. James shrugged and Sirius continued to look uneasy. But before Remus could press him for what he knew, there was a small pop and the empty platters and bowls on the long Gryffindor table were suddenly filled with stews, pies, meats, and vegetables of all kinds.

            Remus whipped his head around. Dumbledore had taken his seat and the chatter of the students had resumed in full force. The older students didn’t seem surprised at all by the appearance of supper. Remus, his belly rumbling, decided to ask someone about Dumbledore’s odd remarks later, and dug into the nearest platter of ham.

* * *

            “And finally, no leaving the dormitories after curfew. That’s nine o’clock for first-years, and ten o’clock for everyone else. Your luggage is already brought to your rooms: girls up this set of stairs, boys up that set.”

            The first-year Gryffindors, a group of eight boys and nine girls, were all sitting on the squashy couches arranged in a ring around the fireplace of their new common room. Two prefects, the friendly-faced boy Remus had noticed previously (a seventh-year named Fabian) and a sixth-year girl with freckles, had just guided them to Gryffindor Tower and finished an extended lecture about the rules. Remus’s head was spinning from trying to remember everything they said. James, on the other hand, was sitting on the ground in front of Remus’s couch and seemed to be dozing off against Remus’s knee.

            The prefects bid them goodnight and climbed out of the portrait hole that formed the door to Gryffindor Tower. Remus was already having trouble recalling the password they had used to get inside.

            “Oy!” came a voice above him. A foot nudged James’s dozing form and James startled awake, his shoulder bashing into Remus’s leg. Remus looked up. A short redhead, one of the first-year Gryffindor girls, was gazing down at James with her eyebrows raised in a disapproving way. “Did you just sleep through the whole thing? Didn’t you hear any of the rules?”

            James leapt to his feet groggily. Remus saw his eyes widen behind his glasses as he took in the girl’s cross face. “Er—sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. It’s just that rules are…well, they’re so _boring_.”

            “ _I_ don’t think so,” the redhead said, her tone sharp. “The rules are in place to protect us. Didn’t you hear the Headmaster say that before the feast? Or did you sleep through that, too?”

            James didn’t say anything. His mouth was slightly agape. After a few seconds of silence, the redhead rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and headed toward the girls’ dormitory stairs. James watched her leave with a vacant expression before turning to Remus.

            “Who was that?” he asked, his voice soft.

            “No idea,” Remus replied. They crossed the room and began climbing up the boys’ stairs. “Another first-year, I suppose.”

            “She’s pretty,” James said. “Isn’t she?”

            Remus shrugged. He knew he was supposed to find girls pretty, and want to kiss them and hold their hands and one day marry them. But, to be honest, he never really thought about it much yet. “I dunno, she seems kind of stroppy to me.”

            James did not seem concerned about that. “It’s alright, Remus. Most people like me once they get to know me.”

            They came to a landing with two doors, each with a brass placard engraved with “FIRST YEAR BOYS” and, below, a list of several names. One placard read: _Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Potter._ The other placard read: _Prestwich, Smith, Walker, Wood._

            “We’re with Sirius!” James said happily, and pushed the left door open. A handful of large, wooden four-poster beds with heavy scarlet hangings were arrayed in a semi-circle around the room, each with a dresser and desk next to it. Sirius was already kneeling beside his trunk at the bed closest to the door, putting his things away neatly.

            As James and Remus stepped inside, a squeaky voice from the far side of the room greeted them. Remus looked up at his last dorm-mate, a pudgy boy sitting on his bed, peering at them with watery blue eyes.

            “This is Remus, and James,” Sirius said to him. He turned to his friends from the train. “This is Peter.”

            “Peter Pettigrew,” Peter offered with a shy smile.

            The boys spent the next hour unpacking their trunks. Remus stacked his collection of books across his desk, while James covered the walls nearest his bed with posters of various Quidditch players. Sirius pointed out that the players were from all different teams across Europe.

            “Well, I’m not loyal to any particular team,” James said, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “I just like the best players in the world. It’s on another level, to appreciate players for pure Quidditch skill and mastery of the game.”

            Sirius rolled his eyes, but Peter piped up, “Yeah, James, that makes sense.”

            Before long, though, James had abandoned unpacking his trunk and was sitting on his bed, fidgeting with the covers. “I’m bored,” he announced.

            “What is that, your catchphrase?” Sirius was lining up his various-colored inkpots on top of his desk, along with several large, silky feather quills that Remus couldn’t help but admire with a twinge of envy. “You can’t sit still for ten minutes without getting bored.”

            James shrugged and said, “Wanna try to sneak up into the girls’ dormitories?”

            Sirius wrinkled his brow. “Why would you wanna do that?”

            “Yeah, gross,” Peter echoed.

            “He wants to go find this girl he just met,” Remus said, and Sirius pulled his face into a horrible grimace while Peter chuckled. “It’s off-limits,” Remus reminded James. “You must’ve been sleeping when the prefects told us. We can’t even get up their staircase.”

            James sighed. “Alright, then, what about just going out into the halls and exploring a little? See what there is to do in the castle? I’m not tired at all yet.”

            “I dunno, it’s past curfew,” Remus said. “Do you really want to get caught breaking curfew your first night?”

            “But nine is such an early curfew,” James whined. “At home, Mum and Dad let me stay up until eleven! Sirius, you’ll come, won’t you?”

            “Sure,” said Sirius, his gloomy mood seeming to lift a bit. He grabbed a small bag out of his trunk and shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll bring my Dungbombs.”

            “Wait! Can I come, too?” Peter asked, scrambling off of his bed and pulling on his shoes in a hurry.

            “Of course!” James said warmly, clapping him on the shoulder and pushing him toward the door. He turned back to look at Remus, who was still standing next to his bed. “Come on, Remus, it’ll just be for a little while. We won’t get into trouble. We’ll run if we hear any of the teachers coming!”

            Remus hesitated, glancing from his bed to the three boys about to leave him alone in the dormitory. He didn’t want to break rules on his very first day at Hogwarts, but he also didn’t want to be left behind by the only friends he’d made so far. He took two deep breaths and nodded. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll come.”


	4. Howl

            The next evening, Sirius took advantage of a rare moment of peace in his dormitory to write his parents a letter. James and Peter were still downstairs at dinner, and Remus was reading quietly on his bed, the hangings drawn half-shut. Hunched miserably over his desk, Sirius tapped his quill tip against the parchment and wondered how he would begin. There was no question about it; he _had_ to write. If he didn’t tell them what had happened, Cissy certainly would.

            He sat there for an unknown amount of time, a broken record of his parents’ dinner-table lectures playing over and over again in his mind. According to Orion Black, Gryffindor was the worst House at Hogwarts: home of the most vocal Muggle-lovers, traitors to Wizarding tradition, arrogant idiots who never did a hard day’s work in their lives, but somehow always managed to bluster their way into success on pure, dumb luck.

            So why had Sirius been Sorted into Gryffindor? _He_ wasn’t any of those things—was he? He didn’t think so. But the Sorting Hat had been adamant in placing him there, despite his arguments to the contrary.

            Sirius rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He knew his parents hoped he would end up in Slytherin, in line with family tradition, but he was also pretty sure that any House was better than Gryffindor in their eyes. Even Ravenclaw—“sniveling bookworms with no grasp of reality,” according to his mother. Even _Hufflepuff_. Sirius snorted, but it came out as more of a choked sob. If he had been Sorted into Hufflepuff, his parents would probably say he was more brain-dead than a Bubotuber.

            “Are you alright?” a voice asked from behind his left shoulder.

            Sirius raised his forehead from his hands and turned. Remus was peeking through the gap in his bed hangings, looking concerned. Sirius felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t realized he had made a sound and attracted Remus’s attention until it was too late. He wished he’d gone to the Owlery to pen his letter in private.

            “Yes, I’m fine,” he said stiffly. His voice was rather croaky.

            Remus frowned, unconvinced. “Are you writing a letter?”

            Sirius nodded. “To my parents.” A few seconds passed, but Remus was still looking at him, expecting more. “They—well, you’ve heard what people are saying. They’re Blacks. They won’t be happy to hear that I’m in Gryffindor. There’s never been a Black in Gryffindor before.”

            Something flickered across Remus’s face. “Right, so _that’s_ where I’ve heard that name before!” he muttered to himself.

            “You’ve never heard of the Black family before?” Sirius asked, curious. “I thought the whole Wizarding world knew about us.”

            Remus glared at Sirius. “Well, _I_ didn’t…not until my family saw your parents at Kings Cross yesterday,” he said coldly. “Your dad was a right arse to my mum and dad.”

            Sirius swallowed, processing this. Just his luck, that his new friend had run into Orion in London during one of his bad tempers. It was becoming increasingly clear that not only were the Blacks going to hate him for being a Gryffindor, but the Gryffindors were also going to hate him for being a Black. Classes didn’t officially start until tomorrow, so he and many other Gryffindors had spent most of today hanging around the common room. He’d noticed a few of the older students casting glances his way and whispering to each other, but none had come over to introduce themselves to him. Even his fellow first-years, aside from his dorm-mates, seemed to keep their distance.

            “Yeah, well, that’s my dad,” he finally told Remus, sighing. He didn’t think his stomach could sink any lower in his body. “He _can_ be a right arse.”

            Remus’s anger lifted a bit. “He doesn’t…he doesn’t talk to _you_ like that, does he?”

            Sirius shrugged impassively. He wasn’t sure what Orion had said to Remus’s parents, but he’d seen his father make nasty remarks to witches and wizards in public a few times before. Orion had a foul temper sometimes.

            “Well, if he can’t be happy for you getting Sorted wherever you get Sorted, then sod him,” Remus said firmly. “My mum and dad say that the worst type of wizard is one that’s prejudiced against other wizards without getting to know them first.”

            “Prejudiced?” Sirius repeated.

            “Yeah,” Remus said. “It means being close-minded. Having a bad opinion of someone because of what’s on the surface, and never giving them a real chance. Like how your dad thinks my dad is a bad wizard because he married a Muggle. Or if your parents think less of you because you got Sorted into Gryffindor.”

            “Oh,” said Sirius. “How do you know so much about…about ‘prejudiced’?”

            Remus shrugged. “Oh, I dunno…my parents are always telling me about it.” He picked his book up again and flopped back down onto his bed. Sirius watched his eyes dart quickly across the lines on the page. The vein in his forehead was back in full force.

            Still a bit sick to his stomach, but feeling a little better, Sirius turned back to his desk, dipped his quill into his inkpot, and began to write.

* * *

 

            When classes started, life at Hogwarts turned into a whirlwind. It was a blur of meals in the Great Hall, common room password changes, long readings from textbooks, and the occasional injury from wand-work gone awry. Sirius barely noticed when, by the end of his third week, he began to remember the location of each classroom and could navigate the path from the Great Hall back to Gryffindor Tower without a second thought.

            His teachers were merciless with giving out homework, insisting that it was essential for the first-years to learn the fundamentals on which all their other studies would build. Peter was already falling behind, and Remus spent most of his time holed up in the library, where it was a quieter environment for studying than Gryffindor Tower was.

            Sirius ended up goofing around a lot with James, who, like Sirius, seemed to have a knack for most of the material and picked things up quickly. They spent a lot of time on the Quidditch pitch, honing their skills in preparation for the upcoming Gryffindor team tryouts. Although James had blustered a lot about how he refused to try out this year, Sirius was realizing that that’s all it was—talk. James was just like that: lots of talk and not much follow-through. But Sirius liked him. His constant stream of chatter and ideas kept things interesting.

            It was obvious, even on the dusty old school brooms, that James was the superior flier to Sirius. They often did one-on-one shooting practice, taking turns acting as Chaser and Keeper—and while Sirius barely made one in five attempts, James outmaneuvered and scored on Sirius nearly every time. He was a rather good sport about it, though, and gave Sirius a bunch of tips on how to improve.

            All in all, Sirius was actually having quite a bit of fun at Hogwarts, except for one thing that lingered uneasily in his mind: his parents still had not replied to his letter.

            At breakfast sometime in late September, the Great Hall was mostly empty when Sirius entered. He spotted James eating alone at the end of the Gryffindor table and moved to join him.

            “Wait, leave that seat open!” James said urgently through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

            Sirius changed course and veered around to take the seat across from him instead. “What? Why?”

            James grinned at him. “Maybe I’ll be able to get Evans to sit next to me today. Tell me if you see her come in, will you?”

            Sirius rolled his eyes. Lily Evans was one of the first-year Gryffindor girls, and James seemed to have taken a liking to her. Sirius wasn’t sure why—Lily was pleasant enough whenever James tried to strike up a conversation in the common room or walking between classes, but they didn’t talk about anything very interesting. None of the first-year girls really hung around with the boys, and Sirius liked that just fine. Girls were no fun; one of them would probably spot his bag of Dungbombs and tattle to a teacher.

            Remus slogged into the Great Hall a few minutes later, dragging a bag over his shoulder that looked very heavy. He was even paler than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept all night. There was a nauseated expression on his face. He didn’t attempt to sit in James’s saved seat, but headed straight for the spot next to Sirius.

            “What’s wrong with you?” Sirius asked. “You don’t look very well.”

            “Not very well? He looks like hell,” James chimed in.

            “It’s nothing,” Remus muttered, pouring himself a goblet of water and gulping some down. “I’m just—I’m just feeling sick. Probably a cold, that’s all.”

            “Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing,” James said.

            Remus rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. “Yeah, I’m going tonight after dinner. It’s not a big deal, really. I catch a lot of colds—I’m used to it.”

            The last of their dorm-mates, Peter, came to breakfast soon after. “Merlin, I’m sore,” he moaned as he approached them, gesturing in the general direction of his bottom. “Bad fall yesterday in Charms, that was. My Levitating spell really went wrong, didn’t it?”

            “Well, yeah,” James snorted. “You were supposed to Levitate that piece of parchment, not your own chair.” He and Remus chortled. “Oh, Pete, don’t sit here! I’m saving this seat.”

            “For who?” Peter asked curiously.

            But James’s response was lost among a loud rustling of wings, as over a hundred owls poured into the Great Hall to deliver the morning post. Out of habit, Sirius looked up from his breakfast toward them. For a minute, all was aflutter. But the flock of owls took a single lap of the room to drop off their parcels and then darted back out of the double doors again, and the flapping subsided just as suddenly as it began.

            Sirius craned his neck and peered through the smattering of owl feathers now drifting lazily to the ground like snowflakes. This morning, just like every morning for the past three weeks, nothing had arrived for him.

            James noticed him looking around. “Expecting something to come in the post?” he asked.

            Sirius stared at his goblet of juice glumly. “Yeah,” he said. “A letter from my folks. They haven’t written me once since we got here.” He took a swig, hoping the liquid would wash away the lump that was rising in the back of his throat. “I don’t think they’re happy I’m in Gryffindor. I mean, I knew they wouldn’t be. But I just figured they’d at least write back by now.”

            Sirius felt a bit ashamed and warm in the cheeks, but after weeks, it was getting harder and harder to keep his worries to himself. He felt Remus pat his back sympathetically, but didn’t look up.

            “I’m sorry mate,” James said, his normal loud voice rather subdued. “D’you reckon, though, that maybe it’s best they don’t write if they’re still angry? I mean, what if they sent you a Howler?”

            Sirius snorted. “The Black family doesn’t send Howlers,” he informed James. “It isn’t proper. Doesn’t befit our position in society to air our dirty knickers where everyone can see. My mum would kill me and throw my body in the Thames before she’d send a Howler to me at Hogwarts.”

            James shrugged. “Maybe she’ll write tomorrow. She’s bound to get over it soon, right?” He socked Sirius on the arm by way of comfort as he got up from the table. “Well, I’m gonna see if Evans is in the common room studying for Slughorn’s quiz before class. See you lot down there.”

            As James headed for the door, Remus hacked a cough that sounded distinctly like “ _Stalker!_ ” And for the first time all morning, Sirius cracked a smile.

            Their earliest class that day was Double Potions with the Slytherins, down in the dungeons with Professor Slughorn, the rotund Slytherin Head of House.

            Sirius liked Potions well enough so far. Slughorn’s lectures were a bit boring and he always started off class with a short quiz on their last homework reading, but Sirius really liked the practicals, where they could try their hand at brewing some simple beginner potions. James was his partner, and the two practicals they’d done so far had been a blast. The first time, James had reached over and slipped a newt eyeball down the back of Peter’s robes, causing him to squeal and wriggle his way violently down the aisle between the rows of tables. The next time, James and Sirius had spent the whole session shoving cacao beans up each other’s nostrils and pretending to sneeze them out loudly whenever Slughorn’s back was turned.

            Needless to say, they were not Slughorn’s favorite students. The professor had already learned to keep a close eye on them, something that made Sirius rather uneasy. While he simply tutted his disapproval at James’s antics and then moved on, Slughorn definitely spent longer observing Sirius. Sometimes Sirius would look up from a conversation with his friends at the start or end of class and notice Slughorn watching him from the front of the room. He supposed that Slughorn, like the rest of Hogwarts, was not used to seeing a Black outside of Slytherin House.

            That day, it was another practical. They were attempting the most complex potion thus far, a balm for chapped skin that involved shelling and crushing a bunch of bright red pods with very tough exteriors. Sirius couldn’t tell whether they were some kind of plant or crustacean, and everyone was struggling to get the pods open.

            Beside him, James was hemming and hawing loudly while he pried on a pod with his fingers. A quick look around told Sirius exactly why. At the table right in front of them, Lily Evans was bent over her cauldron and pointedly ignoring James’s exaggerated noises. Her Potions partner, one of the Slytherin first-years, was getting more annoyed with every passing minute. Sirius watched the boy shoot irritated glances over his shoulder at James.

            After James emitted a particularly loud grunt, the Slytherin slammed his knife down on the table and whipped around to face them. His dark eyes peered out from under slick, black hair and his nose was large and hooked. He had the look of someone who neither showered nor saw sunlight very often, Sirius thought to himself.

            “Can I help you?” James asked him coolly.

            “Yes, you can,” the Slytherin sneered. “I can’t concentrate with you back here braying like a billy goat.”

            James bristled. “That’s not my problem, Greasy,” he retorted.

            Now Lily turned around to face them, too. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of her cauldron. “Ignore him, Sev,” she said to her partner in an undertone. “He’s just trying to get attention.”

            Sev opened his mouth with a frown, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment and bit back his retort. Instead, he held up his knife. “Why don’t you try your knife,” he told James tartly. “Wedge the tip of the blade into the pod’s opening and pry until it pops apart.” Then he turned back to his own station, muttering, “Maybe use your brain instead of being a sodding idiot…”

            James, grumbling darkly, picked up his knife. Sirius did the same.

            By the end of class, Sirius saw that he, along with most of his classmates, had failed to get the pods open quickly enough to allow time for their potions to thicken into a balm. He and James ladled their soupy potions hopelessly as Slughorn made his round of the room to see how the students had done. Sirius looked across at Remus and Peter’s station. If anything, they had fared even worse than he and James had: Remus’s balm was foaming over the lip of his cauldron, while Peter’s had dried into a solid grey block with several pod shells embedded within.

            Remus caught Sirius eyeing his overflowing cauldron. “I don’t think I’m very good at Potions,” Remus said gloomily. “This is the second practical where I’ve made a mess of things.”

            Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, maybe, but you’re really good at Charms so far,” he said, trying to be encouraging. “And Defense, too! You knew the answer to Professor Desjardin’s question about hinkypunks last week and nobody else even had a clue!”

            Remus gave Sirius a grateful smile, but had to quickly turn his attention back to his station as his cauldron emitted a new wave of foam.

            When Professor Slughorn stopped at Lily and Sev’s table to peer into their cauldrons, his belly jiggled with excitement. “Oh, look here, look here,” he exclaimed. “Two perfect Chap-Be-Gone Balms!” He beamed at Lily. “Lily Evans, is it?”

            Lily nodded.

            “It seems you have a gift for Potions, my dear!” Slughorn crowed. “Five points to Gryffindor!” He turned then to Sev. “And well done, Severus, well done. Five points to Slytherin! These are some of the best balms from first-year students I have ever seen!”

            As Slughorn blustered away to the next table, Lily turned to Severus with a glowing grin and threw her arms around him in a big hug. She was obviously pleased with the professor’s praise. Severus stiffened in her grip for a moment, shocked, before returning the hug. When they broke apart, there was a ghost of a smile on his otherwise-sullen face. 

            James watched them, slack-jawed. “Well done, Snivellus, well done,” he imitated Slughorn under his breath. He turned to Sirius and rolled his eyes. “What a greasy git.”

* * *

 

            That night, Sirius lay awake in bed for hours after James and Peter had gone to sleep. Remus, looking paler and weaker than ever, had gone off to the Hospital Wing after dinner and had not yet returned to their dormitory. Every now and then, Sirius’s thoughts wandered to his friend and why he wasn’t back yet. Was Remus sick with something so severe that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t just administer a Pepper-Up Potion and send him on his way? Sirius had gotten loads of colds before and a few doses of Pepper-Up Potion always did the trick.

            Mostly, though, Sirius’s thoughts remained with his parents in London. What did they think of him? Didn’t they miss him at all – their eldest son, first of their children to leave for school? Why hadn’t they written him yet? Were they determined to ignore him forever?

            A firm tapping sound on their dormitory window interrupted his swirling thoughts. Sirius sat up in bed, listening. There was a brief pause and then the tapping came again, more loudly this time.

            Sirius drew aside his bed hangings and tiptoed across the room to the large window beside Peter’s bed. Hovering in midair on the other side of the glass was a tawny owl with large, reproachful yellow eyes. Sirius’s heart leaped into his throat. He recognized the bird as his mother’s owl, Maximilian.

            He eased the window open gingerly, hoping that the creaking of the hinges wouldn’t wake Peter, and reached out to unclip the letter tied to Maximilian’s leg. “Thanks,” he whispered politely to the bird, giving him a stroke on the head. “Want a drink of water or anything?”

            Max hooted his refusal and launched off of the windowsill and back into the night.

            Sirius lit the tip of his wand, his heart pounding. “ _Lumos_.” Without even bothering to close the window, he tore open the letter, sank down onto the floor next to Peter’s closed bed hangings, and began to read.

_Sirius,_

_No doubt you’re receiving this letter in the middle of the night. Don’t be alarmed – I simply wanted to keep it from prying eyes, both at Hogwarts and here at the house. Your father is still at a loss for how to respond to your unforeseen news, you see, and I don’t know how he would react if he found out I was replying to you without consulting him._

_You’ll forgive me for not writing sooner, my son. I imagine you are confused, disappointed, and possibly frightened by what appears to be the largest blunder the Sorting Hat has made in generations. Merlin bore witness to my own sorrow when I heard. It has taken me weeks, but I am now resolved to respond to misfortune with elegance._

_I want you to know that I will not abandon you. I am bound to you, as a son of the ancient and most noble house of Black, and as my own flesh and blood. I will help you to manage this grave misfortune. Your path in life may be more difficult now, with the stinking brand of Gryffindor upon your head, but I have faith that one day, with a heavy dose of discipline and the right friends, you will be able to find your way back into high esteem._

_Do not despair, Sirius. I’m sure your father will find the words to write you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Mum_

            Sirius set his wand down on the ground with a shaking hand, and wiped his clammy forehead with the sleeve of his pajamas. Relief was spreading throughout his chest, easing the tight knot that had been present since his first day at Hogwarts. His mum didn’t hate him after all. Far from it, she was pledging her dedication to help him make it right with the rest of his family, including his dad.

            He stayed sitting on the floor for a long time with his eyes closed, trying to calm his heavy breathing. Through the open window above his head, he could hear the chirps and croaks of the night creatures in the nearby forest. The ambient noise soothed his racing heart.

            Then, in the far distance, a faint but distinct howl cut through the night air.

            Sirius scrambled to his knees and pulled himself up by the windowsill. Eyes wide, he scanned the horizon curiously for signs of the wild animal that could make such a noise, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

            With a shrug, he pulled the window closed, gathered up his wand, and tiptoed back to bed. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t been exaggerating when he said there were dangerous animals loose in the forest, he thought. He folded his mother’s letter into a neat square, hid it underneath his pillow, and within a minute of closing his eyes, fell fast asleep.


	5. Quidditch

            When Remus woke, it was too dark to see much around him. Every inch of his body throbbed with pain, and his head felt like it was stuffed to the brim with cotton balls. 

            His last memory was a hazy one, of Madam Pomfrey levitating him across the grounds and back into the castle in the early dawn. He had barely been aware of anything but the pain. He remembered still moaning and writhing as the last vestiges of his transformation finished, and he supposed that she must have put a Silencing Spell on him or he would’ve woken the whole school. Oh, well. The first of his monthly transformations at Hogwarts was behind him now, and nothing bad—or, rather, worse than usual—had happened.

            He tried to roll over onto the cool side of his pillow, but his limbs felt leaden and refused to move. A loud groan escaped his throat before he could stop it, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut—he figured he was in the Hospital Wing now and didn’t want to disturb any other patients.

            There was a rustling noise right beside him. A shadowy figure scrambled to its feet from the chair next to the bed, and Remus felt a cool hand on his sweaty forehead.

            “You’re awake,” a familiar voice said. “Madam Pomfrey says you’ve been sleeping for hours, but you needed the rest.”

            Remus nodded and then winced. His neck was very stiff. “Hi, Dad,” he croaked weakly. “What are you doing here?”

            Lyall Lupin bent down to kiss his son on the cheek. “I wanted to make sure you were alright after the first full moon here. Dumbledore allowed me to visit, just this one time.” He chuckled softly. “I suspect he realizes that your mother and I can’t rest until we know that his arrangements for you are working out well.”

            Remus felt grateful to Professor Dumbledore. As terrible as his transformation was each month, Remus considered the recovery period afterward even worse. Unlike during the transformation, Remus was lucid during recovery, and he had been dreading the thought of spending his first one while at Hogwarts completely alone. “Where’s Mom?” he asked.

            “Well, she can’t come to Hogwarts, remember? I’m sure you’ve read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ ,” Lyall said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “To her, it would just look like an abandoned castle ruin, overgrown with moss and weeds. And if she tried to get too close, she’d suddenly find herself overcome with the urge for a cup of coffee. It would be such an overwhelming urge, in fact, that she’d have no choice but to turn right back around and drive to the nearest town to get one.”

            Remus laughed, but the movement shot a searing pain through the ribs on his left side, and he let out another loud groan.

            “Sorry!” Lyall exclaimed. “I shouldn’t make you laugh.” He reached out to push the hair away from Remus’s damp forehead. “D’you want me to open the drapes for you? Get some light in here?”

            “Sure,” Remus muttered, and a moment later, the Hospital Wing was flooded with early afternoon sunlight. He had to squint until his sleepy eyes adjusted. His dad was wearing his usual tired smile and favorite worn and patched overcoat, and finding such a familiar sight at Hogwarts was both strange and comforting to Remus. Remus struggled with his protesting limbs until he was able to sit up. “Can I have some water?”

            Lyall poured him a cup from the water pitcher on the bedside table, and Remus drank it in three long gulps. Without missing a beat, his dad poured him another, and then pulled a chocolate bar from his overcoat pocket and handed him that, too. After six years of monthly werewolf transformations, his parents were well acquainted with how to care for him during recovery.

            “How are classes?” his dad asked once Remus was ready to talk.

            “Good,” Remus said. “There’s a lot of homework—it’s kind of tough to keep up sometimes—but we’re learning really interesting stuff.” 

            “Do you have a favorite subject yet?”

            “Yeah, Charms. There’s a new professor this year, Professor Flitwick. He’s also the Ravenclaw Head of House.” Remus paused, and then added, “You know, Dad, I’m not sure why I wasn’t Sorted into Ravenclaw. I was pretty sure the Hat would put me there.”

            His dad smiled down at him. “Well, honestly, I’m not that surprised you landed in Gryffindor. You’re a brave boy, Remus. Just look at all you’ve been through already—I think you’ve got the heart of a lion.”

            “Don’t you mean the heart of a wolf?” Remus grumbled, and the two Lupins shared a somewhat dry chuckle. 

            “Are you getting along alright with the others in your House, though?” Lyall asked. “Are you making friends?”

            “Yeah,” Remus said, feeling another wave of gratitude wash over him as he thought of Sirius, James, and Peter. “Everyone in Gryffindor is really nice. I mean, Professor McGonagall is kind of scary sometimes, but she’s mostly alright. And I made friends with my three dorm-mates.”

            “That’s great!” his dad said. “See, I knew you would do well here. You’re having fun, then, aren’t you?”

            “Yes,” Remus agreed with enthusiasm. “There’s always a lot to do. I barely even think about…about my problem most days. My friends taught me how to play Exploding Snap, and I’m really good! I beat Peter and Sirius all the time, although James is pretty good. And I’m thinking of joining Charms Club, too, and everyone is talking about the Quidditch tryouts next week—”

            “You play Exploding Snap?” his dad interrupted sharply, his voice no longer the soft gentle one that people always used in hospitals and around ill people. “You’re going to play _Quidditch_? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Remus! The crowds, the Bludgers—you could get overly stressed—”

            “No, no, Dad, _I’m_ not playing Quidditch,” Remus said hurriedly. He decided to ignore the bit about Exploding Snap and hope his father left it alone in favor of the larger issue of Quidditch. “I’m just saying that tryouts are happening soon, and James and Sirius are going to go out for the Gryffindor team.” He snorted. “What makes you think _I_ could try out for a Quidditch team, anyway? I’ve never even flown on a broom. And you know I’ve always wanted to try.”

            “Yes, well, you know your mum and I think it’s best if you stay on the ground,” Lyall said stiffly. “It’s safer that way.”

            Remus swallowed down the bitter lump that was growing in his throat. Quidditch was only one of the many, many fun things he had been deprived of, due to his problem. For the first time since he woke up, he wished his dad would leave him alone. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “And I’ve got a lot of homework to do before tomorrow.”

            “Well, okay, son,” Lyall said with a small sigh of resignation. He leaned down to give Remus another kiss on the forehead. “I’ve got to get home to your mum anyway. Eat a good dinner, get some sleep tonight, and you’ll be good as new. I’ll see you for the winter hols.”

            Right before Lyall moved toward the door, though, Remus reached up and grabbed him around the neck. Ignoring several aching, tender ribs, Remus pulled him down into a tight hug. “Thanks for coming to see me, Dad,” he whispered. This was how things were between Lupins. No matter how frustrated they got at each other, they never said goodbye while angry. 

* * *

 

            The day of Quidditch tryouts, a Saturday, dawned bright and clear. Gryffindor was scheduled on the pitch from ten until noon, and, having promised their dorm-mates that they would cheer them on, Remus and Peter made their way there lazily after a late breakfast. 

            They weren’t the only Gryffindor first-years who’d come to watch friends. Three first-year girls, including the redhead James had taken a fancy to, Lily Evans, were seated in the first row of the stands. Remus and Peter sat down behind the girls, who turned to greet them.

            “Who are you here to support?” one of the girls, Lisa Prestwich, asked them.

            “James and Sirius,” Peter replied. “Is your brother going out for the team, too?” Lisa’s twin brother, Colin, was also a first-year Gryffindor who lived in the boys’ room opposite them.

            “Oh, no,” she said with a laugh. “Colin’s not much of a flier—and neither am I. I guess Quidditch isn’t really in our blood.”      

            “Well, Colin’s not trying out, but _Casey_ is,” Lisa’s friend, Samantha Jordan, cut in. She shot Lisa a devious smile, and Lisa’s cheeks turned bright red.

            “Casey Wood?” Remus asked blankly. Casey was another first-year Gryffindor boy.

            Samantha and Lisa giggled. “We think he’s rather cute,” Samantha announced. “That’s why we’re here.”

            “Oh, don’t be silly!” Lily interjected, flapping her hand as if she could wave away Samantha’s frivolity. “That’s not why _I’m_ here. I’m just curious to see what Quidditch is all about! I’ve heard so much about it, but I’ve never actually seen it played! I’m Muggleborn, you know,” she added to Peter and Remus matter-of-factly.

            “And besides,” Lisa said, looking sheepish, “we’re not just here for Casey. Our dorm-mate Laura Nielson is trying out, too. Four first-years, and who knows how many people from other years! Everyone’s going out for only two spots this year – one Beater and the Keeper. Competition is going to be tough.”

            “Well, hopefully Sirius is better at Beating than he is at Keeping,” Peter said to Remus, chuckling. “When I’ve watched them play, James scores on him nearly every time.”

            “Oh, is James really good?” Samantha asked. “Maybe he has a chance, then. I dunno, though…I’ve heard it’s been ages since a first-year made it on a House team!”

            Peter and Remus shared a meaningful look. They both knew that, once James arrived on the pitch and saw that Lily was among the spectators, there was no telling what he’d do to impress her.

            They made polite chatter with the girls until the current Gryffindor players, identifiable by their scarlet robes, jogged onto the pitch from the changing rooms. A line of ten or twelve contenders for the two open positions trailed out behind them. Instructions were bellowed, whistles sounded, and everyone kicked up high into the air on their brooms. Lily let out a gasp of delight.

            Remus watched enviously as the group tore back and forth across the pitch, circling in first a Chasing warm-up exercise, and then a Beating one. It just looked like so much fun.

            Both of his dorm-mates seemed to be keeping up with the group, James with ease and Sirius with a few bumbles that betrayed his relative inexperience on a broom. Sirius was indeed better at Beating than he was at Keeping, though, wielding the short Beater’s bat like a precision instrument rather than a troll’s club.

            “Casey’s flying well,” murmured Samantha loyally.

            “So is Laura,” Lily pointed out.

            It wasn’t long before James spotted Lily sitting in the stands. He broke away from the drill line and zoomed toward them, breaking into a deep nosedive that made Lisa shriek in terror before pulling himself back up to their eye level.

            “Fancy seeing you here, Evans,” he drawled, hovering right in front of her.

            “Hi, Potter,” Lily said politely. She seemed determined not to give him the satisfaction of sounding impressed with his flying. “I’m just here to watch my friend Laura.”

            James did a little sloth roll in midair, which drove Lisa and Samantha back into a fit of giggles. “So you didn’t come to watch me?” he asked in a mock hurt tone, watching her from his upside-down pose.

            “Nope,” Lily replied evenly. “But don’t worry—I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” James pulled a horrible face, as if much offended by her use of the word _fine_ , and straightened upright again. “Shouldn’t you be getting back in line, though?”

            James shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.” He looked at Remus, Peter, and the other girls. “She didn’t come to watch me today, but I’m gonna make sure she can’t help but to,” he informed them with a mischievous grin. “Well…toodles!” And he raced away again, bringing his broom into several somersaults on his way back to the drill line.

            Samantha jostled Lily teasingly with her elbow, but Lily just let out a nonchalant, “ _Eh_.”

            The Gryffindor team worked them hard, running drills for over an hour with only a few brief water breaks. They did Beating drills that aimed Bludgers first toward distracting a Seeker, and then to breaking up a moving configuration of Chasers. Then, each took their position up at the rings to block a series of Quaffle shots. James blocked five of the eight he faced, while Sirius blocked three.

            “Hey, Evans, did you see that?” James crowed, weaving in and out of the goalposts at an alarming speed after his last successful block.

            Lily ignored him.

            Finally, it was time to scrimmage and show their abilities in a game scenario. Everyone split up into two teams—all except Sirius, who, Remus noticed, had broken away from the group and was gliding down toward the stands on the opposite side of the pitch.

            Remus squinted to see where he was headed. Standing alone at the edge of the bleachers, watching as Sirius approached on his broom, was a tall girl in Slytherin robes with striking blonde hair. Her head was so bright that it reflected the sunlight like a blinding beacon.

            Remus elbowed Peter and pointed. “How long has that girl been standing there?”

            Peter squinted toward her and then shrugged. “I dunno. Why’s Sirius talking to her?”

            “I dunno.”

            Up above them, the scrimmage continued on. James was the Chaser currently in possession of the Quaffle. He feinted right and then soared left around the Keeper, landing the Quaffle solidly in the leftmost ring.

            “Evansssssss…” they heard him calling. “Are you watching me nowwwwww?”

            Lily’s friends burst into laughter yet again.

            Lily turned around to address Remus and Peter. “Why are you two even friends with him?” she demanded, shaking her head with a small exasperated smile. “I mean, you seem like really nice boys. How do you put up with him?”

            “Er…” Remus muttered, distracted. He was still watching Sirius on the sidelines with the Slytherin girl. Sirius was waving his arms, gesturing to the Quidditch game. His raised voice drifted across the pitch. Remus couldn’t make out any words, but he could tell that Sirius was upset.

            “James isn’t bad at all, once you get to know him,” Peter was saying to Lily. “He just likes having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

            “Well, his idea of fun is obnoxious,” Lily said. “I’m not sure why he’s so determined to get my attention. It’s not like we really know each other. We’ve barely talked a handful of times since term started.”

            “Honestly,” Peter replied sagely, “I don’t think James knows why he’s doing it either.”

            Lily rolled her eyes and pointed at the players, who had just touched back down onto the pitch. “Looks like they’re finished. Let’s go find out the results?”

            They trooped down the stairs and onto the grass. “You all flew well today and should be proud of your efforts,” the Gryffindor captain was saying to the players as Remus and the others walked up. “Unfortunately, we only have two spots, so we can’t accept everyone.”

            There was a small _oomph_ noise at the edge of the group and everyone turned in time to see Sirius straightening up from a rather hard landing. His face was red and he was breathing faster than usual. The captain raised her eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” Sirius muttered. 

            “Alright,” the captain continued, “for the Keeper position, we’ve decided to go with Chrissy Lane.”

            A pretty fourth-year girl threw her arms up and cheered.

            “And for the Beater position, Nate Attenborough.”

            A sturdy fifth-year boy grinned broadly.

            “The rest of you, good work out there today, but sorry. I’d encourage you to keep practicing on your own and come back again next year.” Remus noted that all four first-years looked a bit glum, but not entirely surprised, at not having made the team on their first try.

            As everyone began to disperse and head back up to the castle, the captain called out, “Er – James Potter? Can you hang back a moment?”

            James jogged over to her. Remus, Peter, and Sirius also hung back, dragging their feet, in order to listen in.

            “Look, Potter, you flew really well today,” she said. “The best Chasing I’ve ever seen from a first-year. If we’d needed a Chaser, I would’ve given it to you. So, I wanted to tell you to keep those skills sharp because you’d be great for my Chaser spot next year after I graduate. Alright?”

            James shook her hand and then raced to catch up with his dorm-mates. “Did you hear that?” he crowed, his face glowing. 

            “Yeah!” Peter exclaimed, his pointy nose quivering in excitement. “She all but said it was a sure bet for next year!”

            The two of them immediately began chattering happily about the tryouts, pulling ahead of Remus and Sirius as they all crossed the great lawn toward the castle doors. Remus noticed that Sirius was silent and seemed to be fuming.

            “Is something the matter?” he asked him in an undertone. When there was no response, Remus added, “You’re not mad about James getting tapped for Chaser, are you?” 

            Sirius shook his head, but continued to avoid Remus’s gaze.

            “You looked really put out after you talked to that blonde girl,” Remus persisted. “Who was she?”

            Sirius tucked his chin down and stared at the ground as they walked. “Just my cousin, Narcissa,” he growled. “I hate her. She’s such a brownnoser! My dad finally decided to accept me back into the family this week, and I suppose he has her reporting on every sodding thing I do, because now she’s trying to pass me messages from him. And it couldn’t even wait until the end of Quidditch tryouts, she said. What an over-important, miserable hag!”

            Remus frowned. “What’s the message?”

            “He ordered me to stop consorting with blood traitors and other scum in Gryffindor who would ruin my good name,” Sirius burst out, stomping his feet more loudly than necessary as they climbed the front stairs. “I guess you and James, mostly.”

            “What about Peter?” Remus asked, stung.

            “Well, he’s a pureblood and his family mostly stays out of politics, so he’s okay.” Once they crossed the entrance hall, Sirius finally met Remus’s eyes. He must’ve read the hurt in Remus’s face because his anger seemed to deflate and he began to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he said. “I – I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. That was ill-bred of me.”

            “Caring about breeding is the reason you’re in this mess,” Remus said coolly. “So, what are you going to do? Ditch us?”

            “No, I don’t want to ditch you!” Sirius said anxiously. “You, James, Peter – you’re the first real friends I’ve made. But my dad just started talking to me again, and if I don’t listen to him, he’ll probably ignore me all over again…and I don’t know why he can’t just be happy for me, that I’m actually having fun for once,” he muttered. His normally regal face was twisted in agony. “My parents just have to ruin everything.”

            Remus bit his nails, grasping for something comforting to say. It was hard to stay offended by Sirius’s harsh words when he was so clearly in pain. “You’re the first real friends I’ve made, too, you know,” Remus offered. “And I know it’s shite to have parents who try to control you.”

            “They can’t control me,” Sirius said at once. It seemed to be a knee-jerk reaction. He drew his eyebrows together firmly. “I’m gonna be friends with whoever I want. Including you.”

            At these words, Remus felt his expression brighten. “Come on,” he said, “it’s time for lunch. That is, if you can keep anything down while James brags about how he’s basically got a reserved spot on the Quidditch team.”

            Sirius let out a sharp laugh that reminded Remus of a dog bark. They shouldered their way through the Great Hall’s doors and dropped into the seats at the Gryffindor table that were quickly becoming their own.


	6. Halloween

            As the weeks in October passed, a distinctive autumn chill began to permeate the castle walls. Outside, the grounds had become slick with a coating of fallen leaves. Sirius loved trampling as many leaves as possible and hearing the satisfying crunch beneath his feet. There hadn’t been many trees to shed their autumn leaves in the area of London where he grew up, and now he reveled in the lazy hours he spent out on the grounds with his friends, running races by the lake, playing hide-and-seek in the labyrinthine courtyards that ringed the castle, creating towering piles of leaves with their wands and then jumping into them with abandon.

            James was always up for anything fun – he was usually the architect, the first to suggest an activity, with Peter quick to follow along. The two would then tirelessly badger Remus to join until he conceded. And each time, Sirius would hesitate as well, thinking of his father’s warning. But then he’d catch sight of James’s careless grin, or Peter’s eager, twitching nose, or Remus’s constant expression of mingled amusement and exasperation, and inevitably any thoughts of distancing himself from the Gryffindors would crumble. Sirius couldn’t help himself – he _wanted_ to be with his friends, his family’s expectations be damned.

            Early on, Sirius often wondered what his parents would say if they could see him, galloping about in a most undignified manner. But as November drew nearer, those small twinges of shame waned, and he was able to shove them deep into the back of his mind. Cissy still watched and reported on him from afar, he knew, but after several explosive public arguments, she was too embarrassed to approach him again. She knew that he would just make a scene.

            Halloween was a grand affair at Hogwarts. There was a feast in the Great Hall, which had been fully decorated with sparkling cobwebs and an eerie, dark sky that rippled with forks of magical lightning. At every table setting, goblets of mysterious potion in a variety of neon colors bubbled merrily, every now and then emitting a haunting shriek to startle the nearby students.

            The boys stuffed themselves on shepherd's pie and sweet potatoes until they could barely move. “Ergghhh,” James groaned, rubbing his stomach and slumping down across the table. “I can't start on homework right now. I’d fall asleep in seconds.”

            “I’ve got to, though,” Peter said glumly. “I have a ton of extra work for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall says if I can't change a button into a screw by the end of next week, I'm going to have to do remedial lessons with her on weekends.”

            “I’ll give you a hand,” volunteered Remus, who was looking a bit paler and weaker than usual again. “Let’s go practice, and maybe I can figure out what you’re doing wrong.”

            The two of them headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, and James turned to Sirius, who’d just laid his napkin down neatly beside his plate. “Wanna go for a walk outside?” he suggested. “Mum always makes me walk outside with her when I’ve eaten too much and need to digest. Plus, we’ve got at least an hour until curfew.”

            Sirius shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” He wasn’t eager to get started on his homework either, and was glad for a reason to procrastinate.

            They left through the double doors, drawing their cloaks close to keep warm, and crunched their way through the leaves gathered on the flagstones. They meandered in the darkness without a real destination in mind, chatting easily about the various fun items in the new Zonko’s Joke Shop catalog that James had just received in the post. 

            “Imagine how many teachers we could prank if we got those Collapsible Chairs!” James said gleefully as they wandered into one of the many courtyards that surrounded the castle. “It’s too bad they’re four Galleons each! Usually Mum and Dad don’t mind buying me things from Zonko’s, but if something is more than a Galleon or two, I have to ask for it as a Christmas or birthday present.”

            Sirius thought of his full bag of Black family gold, sitting unused in a locked compartment in his trunk. “It’s okay, I’ll order one,” he told James, grinning. “It’ll be worth it to see McGonagall’s face!” 

            A rustling movement behind a large stone statue at the courtyard’s edge suddenly interrupted the quiet. Both boys froze. Sirius glanced nervously at the statue. Who was it? Maybe Argus Filch, the grumpy caretaker who was always on the lookout for troublemakers? He would’ve loved to lurk in courtyards, waiting to overhear students planning pranks and then giving them preemptive detentions. 

            But it wasn’t an adult they’d come upon. As Sirius watched, a boy’s face – pale and framed with long, dark hair – peered around the statue to see who’d disturbed him. The boy’s silhouette looked familiar. That large, hooked nose…

            “Snivellus?” he heard James mutter under his breath.

            Indeed, Sirius realized, it was Severus Snape, the Slytherin first-year in their Potions classes who always partnered with Lily. For a beat, the three boys stared at each other, and Sirius thought about greeting him. That was the polite thing to do, of course. But then Snape’s lip curled, and a moment later, he’d bolted away from them across the courtyard, his long black cloak billowing behind him. He looked like a large bat, flapping away into the night. 

            “What was that about?” Sirius mused aloud.

            “I dunno,” James said. “I wonder what he was doing back there.”

            They walked around to the other side of the statue. Sirius lit his wand and crouched down to examine the small mound of debris that lay at the statue’s stone base. As the beam of light from his wand fell across the ground, he felt his stomach turn.

            “Whoa!” James yelped, leaping backwards. His glasses slid down his nose and he barely caught them in time. “What the bloody hell is that?”

            Sirius had illuminated a pile of tiny rodent bones, freshly dissected from their owners by all appearances. A handful of limp furry bodies lay discarded at the foot of the statue, and the leaves that lined the cold ground were spattered with blood. Around the pile of bones, a series of shapes had been drawn in the dirt, but a large scuff cut through the markings and Sirius couldn’t make out much. Apparently Snape hadn’t wanted them to find out what he’d created and had snuffed it out with his shoe before running off.

            Sirius extinguished his wand and stared, horrorstruck, at James. The moonlight bounced eerily off of James’s glasses and his hazel eyes were wide behind them. Sirius could hear his heavy breathing. It seemed the other boy was trying hard not to retch. Sirius himself was having a hard time calming his lurching insides.

            “He must be bloody mental,” James finally whispered, “torturing animals like that.” He gulped. “There is something seriously wrong with him!”

            Sirius stepped slowly away from the statue, grabbed James by the arm, and hauled him back out to where torches illuminated the courtyard in a warm glow. The near-full moon, the Halloween décor, the various night noises around them…suddenly it was all too unnerving in the darkness. “He could just be doing something for class,” he said. “Maybe extra credit for Kettleburn, or—”

            “That is not normal magic!” hissed James, his eyes bulging. “My parents have warned me about the Dark Arts, and that looked an awful lot like it!”

            “Well, some magic does require the use of animal blood and bones,” reasoned Sirius. “My dad knows it. In his study, and around the house, I know he keeps a ton of stuff like that.”

            James shot him an uneasy glance, but said nothing.

            “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

            “It’s just—I’m not sure your family always stays on the right side of things,” James muttered. “They have a reputation for being Dark wizards, you know.”

            “Yeah, well, I’ve never seen any proof of that,” Sirius said defensively. “It’s not like I come downstairs for Sunday breakfast and find my mum disemboweling rats at the kitchen table. My dad probably just uses that stuff to brew potions, and I’m sure he buys it from an apothecary or something. We don’t do anything like—like that.” He gestured back at the statue.

            James shivered. “Well, let’s just get inside before Snivellus comes back to collect his bones,” he said. “We don’t want to be his next victims, the sick freak.”

            They jogged toward the nearest castle entrance. Before they stepped inside, Sirius said gravely, “I don’t think we should tell anyone about this.”

            James frowned. “If he’s doing Dark magic, he should be punished,” he retorted fiercely. “There’s nothing worse than a wizard who does Dark magic.”

            “But if we tell McGonagall or somebody, Snape will know it was us,” Sirius argued. “We don’t want him to come after us. And we need solid proof. Just pretend like you didn’t see anything, and one day we’ll catch him red-handed.”

            James looked unhappy, but nodded. “Alright, fine.”

* * *

 

            Remus had his second transformation at Hogwarts the night after Halloween, and all went according to plan. He and Madam Pomfrey were settling into a routine: the night of his transformation, he’d show up at the Hospital Wing before dinner. She’d hand him a light snack, which was all he could stomach anyway, and he’d nibble it while they walked together to the Whomping Willow and through the passageway to the Shrieking Shack. She’d settle him as comfortably as possible in the bedroom there, and then magically seal all openings on her way out. There he’d remain as a werewolf—trapped, howling, and ramming viciously against every wall and window in attempts to escape—until the sun came up and she came to fetch his injured human body back to the Hospital Wing. 

            “Oh, you poor thing,” she’d tut, more to herself than anyone else. “You poor dear. I wish the Healers could come up with something to help you.” But Remus had spent a lot of time reading about his condition over the years, and knew that nobody was close to finding a cure. He’d long ago resigned himself to a lifetime of lycanthropy.

            A week or two later, Remus decided to pop by a Charms Club meeting for the first time. He’d wanted to go since September, but had a hard time convincing any of his dorm-mates to come along.

            Peter was barely keeping up with regular Charms coursework, so the last thing he wanted was to spend his free time trying, and failing, to learn more advanced charms. Sirius and James both mastered the standard Grade 1 charms in class easily, but brushed off Remus’s suggestions that they check out Charms Club. Neither of them was interested in extracurricular activities, choosing instead to spend their free time wandering around the castle causing trouble.

            Remus noted with some crabbiness—and more than a tad of jealousy—that they didn’t seem to study much, either, but still managed to get by with decent grades. Remus himself needed to study twice as long as they did, just to get the same grades. In fact, if it wasn’t for Peter’s dismal performance as a counterexample, Remus might’ve entertained the voice in his head declaring that, as a half-blood, maybe he really was only half the wizard of a pureblood.

            “Where do those two always get the time to have fun?” Peter had groused to Remus one November evening after Sirius and James had burst into the dormitory, covered in stinksap and howling with laughter.

            “No idea,” Remus had replied evenly, not raising his eyes from the textbook he was scanning. “But don’t worry, Pete – soon enough, we’ll be past the easy Grade 1 stuff and move on to more complex things. Then they’ll have to study, just like the rest of us.”

            Far from comforted, though, Peter had just squeaked with fright at the idea that coursework would soon get even harder.

            On the day of Remus’s first Charms Club meeting, however, he felt rather smug and vindicated upon entering the room and noticing Lily Evans seated near the door. Once James got wind of this, Remus mused, he would quickly change his attitude toward Charms Club.

            “Hi,” he said, taking the seat beside her.

            She turned and smiled. “Oh, hi, Remus! I haven’t seen you here before—is this your first time?” He nodded. “I’m glad you came. It’s always loads of fun,” she said. “Usually, the older kids show us the Charms they’ve been learning. Sometimes Professor Flitwick comes in and shows all of us something new. Or, my favorite, one of us picks up a Charms book from the library, we flip to a random page, and then try out the spell on it!”

            Remus looked closely at Lily, whose bright green eyes were large in her face and sparkling with excitement. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself getting enthused about Charms, too. For the first time, he thought maybe he could see why James liked her. “You really love learning,” he observed.

            “Well, of course!” Lily said, shrugging. “Who doesn’t?”

            “Er…” Remus trailed off, thinking of two boys in particular. But before the conversation could continue, someone called for everyone’s attention and began issuing instructions. Remus recognized him as the Gryffindor prefect he met on his first night, Fabian Prewett.

            Today, they were going to practice Concealing and Revealing Charms in groups of two. One student would turn their back, while the other scrawled their name somewhere on a very long scroll of parchment and then cast a Concealing Charm on it. Their partner then turned back and had to find the signature with a Revealing Charm as fast as they could.

            “Partners?” Remus offered to Lily.

            “Okay,” she agreed. She began clearing off her desk to make room for their scroll, shoving an inkbottle into her shoulder bag. She reached to do the same to a folded newspaper, but Remus stopped her.

            “Is that the Daily Prophet?” he asked. His dad got the newspaper daily and read it with a cup of coffee every morning before he went to work.

            Lily nodded and handed it to him. “It’s sad, isn’t it, what’s been happening lately?” she commented as she flattened their scroll and prepared to write her name. Remus dutifully turned his back. “I mean, I was raised among Muggles, and most of them are really good people. They don’t deserve this mistreatment just because they don’t have magic.”

            Remus turned back around and, frowning, tried his best at casting a Revealing Charm. “What do you mean? Has something happened to the Muggles?”

            He waved his wand futilely at the blank parchment, feeling rather foolish. It wasn’t until his third try that he realized he needed to twirl his wand clockwise, not counterclockwise. On his fifth try, Lily’s name appeared in the bottom left-hand corner in blue ink.

            “You mean you haven’t heard?” Lily asked. She turned her back, and Remus now took his turn with the Concealing Charm. “It’s been in the newspapers for a week, at least. On Halloween night, there were six or seven separate gangs of wizards across Europe playing cruel tricks on Muggles, using magic to terrorize them. Piggy-backing off the spooky superstitions surrounding the holiday, I suppose. Several Muggles were so hurt or scared that they’re still in the hospital now.”

            Shocked, Remus flipped through the Daily Prophet and saw that Lily was right. The headlines were everywhere: “Muggle-Baiters Identified and Caught in Budapest,” “Liverpool Muggle-Baiting Gang Awaits Wizengamot Trial,” “Victims of Halloween Attack Committed to Mental Institution—Ministry Reversal Squad to Erase Memory.”

            Lily aimed a near-perfect Revealing Charm at Remus’s signature in the middle of the parchment, and the ink appeared.

            “You have abysmal handwriting,” she remarked. “Anyway, I’m following the stories closely. It’s so fascinating…sad, but fascinating. I never understood where all those loony Muggle superstitions came from. Now, I realize—they were probably just seeing magic but didn’t know it, and gave it a supernatural explanation instead. My family is lucky: now that I’m a witch, they know about magic and won’t be as frightened if they come across it.”

            “This looks bad,” Remus muttered, still flipping through the Prophet. He watched the Muggles in a moving photo as they fled, screaming, from a herd of stray alley cats that were halfway through the process of being transfigured into hippogriffs.

            “Oh, it is. Magical-Muggle relations in Europe are in shambles after Halloween. Nothing as bad has happened, in terms of wizards targeting Muggles for sport, since Gellert Grindelwald was at the height of his power.” Lily paused. “You _do_ know who Grindelwald was, right?”

            Remus nodded at once. “Yeah, I’ve read about him.”

            Lily smiled. “It’s refreshing to hear that somebody in this castle is interested in History of Magic besides me,” she said pertly. “Well, there are rumors that Grindelwald’s followers—those that are still alive, that is—might be resurfacing again now, after many decades. What happened on Halloween was the worst, but there have been a string of attacks on Muggles and supporters of Muggle-sympathizing legislation in the past year or so.”

            Remus felt a recent memory stir in his brain, and a realization hit him. “Oh, so, is that what Professor Dumbledore was talking about during the opening feast? When he said ‘recent events’ were ‘unsettling’? I was wondering what he meant by that.”

            Lily nodded sadly.

            They completed the exercise again, Remus quiet and pondering this news. It was unsettling, alright. His father regularly criticized wizards who were prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-sympathizers, often in the same breath he criticized wizards who were prejudiced against non-humans like werewolves. The Lupins didn’t believe a bit about magical superiority, of course, given that his mum was a Muggle herself. But Remus hadn’t realized how powerful that sect of Wizarding society was growing. It was a bad sign that they were appearing all across the continent, an unpredictable groundswell that forced the Ministry to chase after them and clean up after their attacks, rather than preventing them. How long before these attackers came for him, not only a half-blood, but also a half-breed?

            After several more rounds of charms practice, during which Lily moved onto happier conversation topics, they cleaned up their station and headed downstairs for dinner. James and Peter were already eating. Remus split off toward his friends while Lily sat down with a few first-year girls, but James saw them enter the Great Hall together and accosted Remus even before his bum hit the chair.

            “What were you doing with Evans just now?” he asked eagerly.

            Remus didn’t feel quite in the mood for James’s high level of energy, and decided not to tell him about finding Lily at Charms Club. Far from his previous smugness, Remus now dreaded the chaos that would ensue if James knew. He wouldn’t get to concentrate on practicing charms much, he suspected, if James began to attend meetings with him. “Nothing,” he said. “Just ran into each other on the stairs.”

            Before long, Sirius walked over to join them, shoving a handful of envelopes into his knapsack and looking harried.

            “What are those?” Peter asked curiously.

            “Er—nothing,” Sirius said, averting his gaze. “Just some letters.”

            He locked eyes with Remus for a moment, and Remus sensed they both had a lot on their minds that they didn’t want to share. Not right then, anyway.


	7. Grimmauld

_Sirius, my son,_

_I know you are a jokester and you like to push your father’s buttons, but enough is enough. I did not raise you to act like a common gutter rat, and it hurts your dear mother deeply to hear of your actions at school. Surely you are old enough to understand the ramifications! These first few weeks at Hogwarts equate to your official entrance into Wizarding society. First impressions matter, and it is crucial that you project an image of grace and refinement, as these moments will dictate how your elders and peers remember you forever. Now, stop these antics before you further embarrass me, and your father, and the noble house of Black._

_Mum_  
  


* * *

_Sirius,_

_Perhaps I was not clear with my last few letters. Let there be no mistake: when I first wrote you to pledge my support, it was to reassure you that I would not abandon my firstborn son simply because the Sorting Hat made a grave error. It was NOT permission to act like the scum for which the Hat mistook you. Narcissa is our representative at Hogwarts. Defying her is equivalent to defying us. Don’t you dare humiliate her in the corridors again, you petulant boy._

_Mum_

 

* * *

_Sirius,_

_It has been three months of warnings now, and your father refuses to address this issue again. He doesn’t think it worth his time and energy – and he thinks it is a woman’s job to raise her son properly. So it falls to me to say these ugly words: whatever you may believe, this is a serious matter. If you do not understand the responsibility that comes with being a Black, perhaps you should no longer be allowed to remain one. You are bringing shame and pain onto this family, and we will not compromise on the sanctity of our name. You are not a little boy anymore. You should know better. So think carefully: Are you, or are you not, my son? Are you, or are you not, a member of the house of Black?_

_The winter holidays will soon be here. I can only hope that when you come home, far away from those repulsive so-called “friends” who are polluting your mind, you will regain your sense again._

_Mum_

 

* * *

Sirius looked up from his mum’s letters, wrinkled and worn from multiple reads, and gazed out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. The train was taking him back to London for the winter holidays, and the knot in his stomach was as large and cold as it had been on the night of the Sorting. He was alone in this compartment; he’d made an excuse to Remus, James, and Peter, and slipped out from their compartment, dragging his trunk with him, shortly after the trolley witch arrived. Everyone was too distracted by the sweets to pay him much mind.

            Although he was mere moments from facing his parents after evading their letters and defying their wishes for months, Sirius was still unsure what to do. Even as a child he’d never quite made his parents happy, but he sorely, painfully missed the days when they chastised him only for small infractions like attempting to play with the house elf or scuffing up his new shoes. The weight of their past disapproval felt light compared to the dragon that sat on his chest now. He swallowed hard and felt sorrow sting his eyes.

            But even as the tears came, he was filled with hot rage at the injustice of it all. It seemed that his parents conspired, purposefully, to deprive him of every shred of fun in life. Every door was slammed shut. The answer to every question was no. Never did they crack a smile at his jokes, or swing him around or let him ride on their shoulders, the way other parents in London did with their little boys. So, when he’d finally made friends that allowed him to have fun (and who cares if they’re Gryffindors?) it made a wretched sort of sense that his parents would never allow him to keep them. 

            He crumpled the pile of letters back into a wad and shoved it into his bag. Outside, the greenery was slowly changing into cityscape. They were almost to the station now.

            Sirius was standing up to head back to his friends’ compartment to say goodbye when there was a sharp tap on the door. It was his cousin Cissy, followed closely by her boyfriend, the seventh-year Slytherin prefect Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was just as stiff, arrogant, and blond as Narcissa was. Seeing them together was always rather eerie, Sirius thought. They were like mirror images of each other: cold, blond drones in Slytherin robes, floating through the corridors of Hogwarts with their noses in the air, holding hands.

            Sirius could feel the train slowing to a stop. The two Slytherins slid the door open and entered his compartment without waiting for Sirius to invite them in.

            “I’ve been instructed by Uncle Orion to escort you to your parents,” Cissy said stiffly. “They’re here waiting for you.”

            “And I’m here to ensure that you don’t make a scene,” Lucius sneered. His voice was slow and drawling. He raised his wand and shoved it right under Sirius’s nose so that Sirius could see every detail on the black wooden shaft and silver handle. “May I remind you that, as we are of age, we can use magic whenever we see fit.”

            A burst of irritation flared inside Sirius, but he swallowed it down. Without any of his friends around to create a diversion, Sirius couldn’t see a way out. He trailed silently beside the two Slytherins as they disembarked onto the station platform, which swarmed with parents craning their necks to find their children. While most students struggled with their heavy luggage, Lucius levitated their three trunks beside him with a rather smug expression. Whenever a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor student happened to cross their path, somehow the trunks always managed to catch the student painfully on the leg or shoulder with a tough leather corner.

            “Stop that!” Sirius growled. He glared up at Narcissa, who showed no signs of hearing him other than the faint smirk that curled one corner of her mouth.

            Before long Sirius spotted his parents, standing slightly apart from the other witches and wizards in the crowd, as if afraid they might catch a disease. Lucius and Narcissa deposited Sirius unceremoniously at their feet without a second glance. Their attention was entirely focused on the older couple before them, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with the Blacks in smooth, oily voices. _Brownnosers_ , Sirius thought in disgust.

            “Sirius!” a voice called out. He turned around to see James, and an older couple that must be James’s parents, down the platform about ten meters away. James was still locked in a welcome hug with his mum, but waved madly at Sirius over her shoulder. “There you are! You just disappeared on the train and we didn’t know where you went. Mum, Dad, you’ve gotta come meet Sirius!”

            “Er—” Sirius began, swallowing hard. James was already racing over, but Sirius noticed that the Potters were significantly slower to follow. Sirius wasn’t sure whether it was due to their age—both Potters appeared to be approaching their 60s already—or due to the nasty looks that had crossed Orion and Walburga’s pale faces. “I dunno, James…”

            His warning trailed off as his father grabbed him by the upper arm. The sharp edges on the family crest ring Orion always wore dug in painfully. “Time to go home, Sirius,” Orion said, the edge in his voice betraying his distaste. Walburga muttered a hasty apology to Lucius and Narcissa, and then the two Blacks began to drag Sirius away down the platform without even acknowledging James’s presence.

            “Wait!” James called out. He pursued them for a few steps. “You’ll write us over the hols, won’t you?”

            Sirius winced as his father’s grip on his arm tightened further. The Blacks began to walk away at an even faster trot, and Sirius stumbled after them to keep himself from being dragged in earnest.

            “Okay, well, happy Christmas!” James yelled after them.

            “Happy Christmas!” Sirius called back. Around them, a smattering of witches and wizards were turning to investigate the source of the shouting. Sirius looked up into his parents’ white and horrified faces, and couldn’t help but grin.

 

* * *

 

            His efforts to find humor in the situation didn’t last long once he returned to Grimmauld Place. He’d forgotten how gloomy and suffocating his childhood home was compared to the wide corridors and warmly decorated walls of Hogwarts. Dark carpet, dark wallpaper, dark shadows. No matter how wide he opened the curtains, there never seemed to be enough light. It was like daylight was unable to penetrate inside the house. 

            Immediately, it became clear that his parents were punishing him by being colder and more distant than ever. Sirius caught only glimpses of his father—his cloak swishing around the corner down the hall, his figure gliding past the door to his bedroom without looking in. His mum seemed never to look him in the eye, focusing instead on a point just above his head whenever she spoke to him. She ordered him to stay in his room all day and re-read the Black Family Chronicle, a sort of half-biographical, half-evangelical work that recounted the history of the Black family’s notable accomplishments over the past seven centuries. It spanned four encyclopedic tomes and was dreadfully boring.

            “You are not to leave your room,” commanded Walburga. “Kreacher will bring your food up at mealtimes.” Her mouth was twisted into a painful grimace that Sirius had never seen on her face before. “If you defy me and run afoul of your father, you _will_ regret your insolence. Better to read about your elders, reflect on your wrongdoing, and pray for his forgiveness.”

            Within a few days, Sirius was nearly insane with boredom. He flipped through the Black Family Chronicle, but each time he found a passage about an ancestor who was even remotely interesting, they always ended up dying under mysterious circumstances or thrown in Azkaban for a reason left out of the Chronicle. Sirius was beginning to think that James was right, and his family’s dark reputation was not undeserved.

            Mostly, Sirius killed time during the day by doodling on scraps of parchment, listening to Quidditch games on the wireless, and writing letters to his friends that he knew he’d have no hope of sending. Not without access to an owl. And it didn’t seem likely that his mum would allow him to use Max.

            Sometimes his brother Regulus visited him to play Gobstones or cards, but their conversations were awkward and heavy now, no longer the fluid and affectionate bickering of brothers.

            “What’s it like at Hogwarts?” Regulus had asked once, flopping down on the thick carpet in Sirius’s room. They weren’t allowed to sit on the floor when their parents were around. “Not the Gryffindor part—but the rest of the castle, the classes, the grounds. Can they really teach you how to read minds? Is it true there’s a monster that lives in the lake?”

            Sirius had ignored his brother’s questions. “You know, you might be in Gryffindor, too. The Sorting Hat doesn’t give you much of a choice.”

            Regulus had shrugged. “Dad says the Hat put you there, but you chose to stay there.”

            “Oh, sorry, do you always listen to what Mummy and Daddy say, like the good little boy you are?” Sirius had snapped sarcastically. “Well, I suppose you should, now that I turned out to be such a disappointment. You’re their only hope.”

            After a few such conversations like that, Regulus no longer came by to see if Sirius wanted company in exile. And as annoying as his little brother was, Sirius still felt a bit sorry to realize he wasn’t coming back.

            Every evening, after Kreacher lit the candles and took away his supper tray, Walburga would knock on Sirius’s door, expecting that an additional day of exile had caused him to rethink his actions. And every evening, Sirius would tell her that he valued his friends and didn’t see why he needed to give them up. He could stay friends with Gryffindors _and_ be a good eldest son of the House of Black at the same time, he pleaded. Nobody but Narcissa makes a fuss about it at Hogwarts anyway, he argued. It doesn’t matter to them who my friends are.

            But with each passing day, his mother’s demeanor seemed to shift. At first, she was furious and firm when they argued, but by the end of a week, she was disengaged and dead in the eyes. To Sirius, this state felt almost worse, like his mum had given up. She no longer cared enough about him even for anger.

            On Christmas Eve, Sirius was sure that his mum would come retrieve him and permit him to go downstairs for family holiday supper in the dining room. Sirius always looked forward to the holiday. In past years, Christmas had been one of the few times when his parents were more charitable and Grimmauld Place felt warm. But as the hours dragged on, there was no sign of Walburga, and in fact, no sign of anyone in the house at all. In the late afternoon, long after the Blacks usually began their Christmas Eve supper, Sirius sat with his ear at the bedroom door and heard nothing. Regulus’s quick footsteps, usually heard thumping up and down the stairs, were conspicuously absent, as were Orion’s slow, steady ones. And when Kreacher also failed to materialize with a food tray, Sirius was driven by his growling stomach to open the door and tiptoe down the hall to the landing.

            The house was silent—there was no clattering of silverware on china or soft mealtime conversation.

            Sirius crept down the stairs, terrified that one of his parents might round the corner at any moment or that the creaky wooden floorboards would give him away. But he made it safely to the first floor, and when he peered into the dining room, the fireplace was unlit and the room was dark. There was nothing at all on the long wooden table, no indication that it was Christmas Eve, or dinnertime at all for that matter.

            “Mum? Dad?” Sirius called out hesitantly. His voice sounded thin and sad in the drafty hall. “Where are you?”

            There was a soft shuffling noise from the far side of the dining room, and a moment later Kreacher appeared through the darkness, shaking his wrinkled head slowly from side to side. His large ears, sprouting with grey hair, flopped to and fro.

            “Master and Mistress are not home,” he muttered. The old elf’s gnarled face was twisted into a sour glower and he, too, did not look Sirius in the eye but seemed to stare past him into the hallway. “They are gone with young Master Regulus. Mistress is ashamed to take young Master Sirius now, after what he has become.” He continued to shake his head ruefully, as if he could feel Walburga’s humiliation as his own.

            Sirius frowned. “But where have they gone?”

            “Mistress did not say Kreacher could tell young Master Sirius,” Kreacher said sullenly.

            Sirius, rather edgy with hunger, retorted, “You’ve never needed permission to tell me things before. You’re still my house elf, aren’t you? You _must_ tell me!”

            “They are at Master’s brother’s house for Christmas Eve dinner,” Kreacher said, glaring at the floor. He was trying to hold the words in, but they forced their way out through his gritted teeth. “Mistress said young Master Sirius was to stay behind, and that if he does not want to be part of the family, he shall not be.”

            Sirius felt his face heating up. “But it’s Christmas,” he whispered. With shame, he realized his eyes were prickling with tears. He turned away from the elf and dabbed his face with the backs of his hands. At that moment, his stomach growled yet again.

            “Kreacher, I need something to eat,” he muttered, his voice as croaky as the elf’s. “Make me something, please. Thank you.”

            “Kreacher ought not to serve young Master Sirius anymore, if only Kreacher could!” Kreacher growled. The old elf’s body seemed to be lagging behind as his feet dragged and thumped toward the pantry against his will. “Young Master Sirius has caused my beloved Mistress much pain. She cries when Master is not around. Kreacher sees. She does not deserve such a bad son as young Master Sirius!” His skinny arms shook as he pulled down jars from the cupboards and lit the stove.

            Sirius felt sick, watching the little elf’s efforts to resist his orders. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew that house elf magic bound elves to serve their masters, and that even if an elf managed to willfully resist, the magic would punish him afterwards.

            The vitriol in Kreacher’s eyes as he shuffled around the kitchen was unnerving. Kreacher was never warm and cuddly exactly, but over the years Sirius and the elf had developed a fondness for each other. Kreacher had been Sirius’s main caretaker since he was a baby. The elf had even been a captive playmate on long afternoons when his parents, and later Regulus, were uninterested in his antics. And Kreacher had never been angry with Sirius before. It was like losing his last friend at Grimmauld Place.

            As soon as Kreacher had finished cooking, Sirius grabbed the tray of food and ran back upstairs to his room, unable to stand another minute of the elf’s constant mutinous muttering. The food tasted like cardboard and went down his throat like sandpaper, and he’d barely swallowed his last bite before the tears began to come in earnest. Midnight, and Christmas Day, found him curled up under the covers in his four-poster bed, alone in the House of Black.


	8. Flying

            Remus felt lucky that the full moon had occurred only a few days before school resumed after the holidays. By the time they were all back at Hogwarts, he was in full health, and would remain so for almost a month. His appetite, too, was recovered. At the welcome back feast, Remus shoveled food into his mouth nearly as quickly as James did. His mum was a pretty good cook, sure, but she was no match for the house elves in the Hogwarts kitchens, especially because she did everything the Muggle way.

            “What, do they starve you at home or something?” Peter quipped, regarding Remus with amusement. Remus was slurping spoonfuls of beef stew, stopping only long enough to wipe away the dribbles before they reached the tip of his chin.

            “Pete,” James muttered under his breath, but Remus heard him anyway. Remus looked up in time to see Sirius shoot Peter a meaningful look. 

            He buried his face even deeper in his stew bowl. It was no secret among his friends by now that the Lupins were poor—if they hadn’t guessed based on Remus’s hand-me-down wardrobe and worn trunk, they certainly knew after an awkward conversation from a few months prior, when James suggested that each boy pitch in a few sickles to smuggle some contraband butterbeers in from Hogsmeade for Sirius’s birthday. After Remus mumbled, embarrassed, that his parents hadn’t given him any spending money, James swooped in to cover his share, and nobody had mentioned it since. Apparently, Remus now realized, they were taking great pains not to make him feel different. A warm pool of gratitude bloomed in his chest, easing his momentary shame.

            “Sorry, I—I was just kidding,” Peter stammered, looking horrified at his unfortunate turn of phrase.

            “I know, it’s okay,” Remus said, keeping his eyes on the dinner roll he was crumbling in his hands. Sometimes Peter could get so nervous that reassuring him was like second nature.

            “Forget nagging Remus, why don’t we start on this prat?” James demanded, waving his spoon at Sirius. A few drops of stew splashed onto the third-year sitting on his other side, and the older Gryffindor gave him an angry glare. James merely shot her a winning grin before rounding back on Sirius. “I told you to write us over the holidays, didn’t I? Three weeks and nothing! Did you forget we existed?”

            “Yeah!” Peter chimed in, grateful for the change in subject. “We all wrote each other, but nobody heard from you. We thought maybe you were dead!”

            “We thought maybe your mum and dad figured I contaminated you too much at King’s Cross,” James joked, leaning in close to Sirius and breathing all over him. The other boy grunted in disgust and batted his face away. “You weren’t clean enough to come inside the house, so they kept you chained up in the backyard like a rabid old dog.”

            “Maybe they locked you in a broom cupboard under the stairs so they wouldn’t have to deal with the smell,” Remus contributed with a small grin.

            Sirius didn’t crack a smile. This surprised Remus, who’d gotten used to hearing Sirius’s sharp bark of a laugh come more and more easily to his lips as the months passed. Before the holiday break, Sirius had lost much of his former stiffness, taking cues from the restless and lackadaisical James. But now that they were back, Sirius seemed distant and subdued. Downtrodden, even. Now he merely looked at his wisecracking friends and shrugged. “Yeah, something like that,” he said.

            It could not be clearer to everyone, even Peter, that the subject was closed.

            “Well, you’re back with us now, mate,” James declared loudly, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “None of that stuff matters here.”

            “Yeah,” Peter echoed.

            Remus gave Sirius an encouraging smile, and this time, Sirius managed an empty one in return. The corners of his mouth lifted, but the rest of his face remained firmly pointed downwards.

            Remus returned to staring into his stew, wracking his brains for something that would raise his solemn friend’s spirits. He wasn’t particularly good at planning pranks or cracking jokes—that was really James’s purview—but he knew he could offer something. And then an idea occurred to him.

            He waited until James and Peter were occupied in conversation before nudging Sirius’s foot under the table. “Hey,” he muttered, “I was thinking. Wanna go flying with me on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow? We don’t have class yet and I’ve wanted to practice for a while now. I could really use your help.”

            Sirius’s stormy eyes brightened. “Flying?” And then they filled with mirth. “Really? Are you sure?”

            Remus knew he was remembering the only time Remus had ridden a broomstick, during first-year flying lessons with Madam Hooch last autumn.

            “On my whistle, kick firmly off the ground!” Madam Hooch had yelled out into the restless crowd of first-years. “Keep your broom handle steady and don’t pull up on it too hard! Stay within the bounds I’ve marked out or I’ll take away House points!”

            On her whistle, James and Sirius had kicked off with lazy confidence, their brooms soaring in gentle arcs across the lawn as they watched some of their classmates struggle. Peter’s broom had sputtered to a stop a few feet into the air, and he hovered there, his legs dangling uselessly, his toes brushing the tips of the grass. Remus had managed to gain more elevation and speed, but was unable to keep his broom handle steady. His broom wobbling, he slid first to the right, and then to the left, and finally—seemingly all on its own—the handle began to rotate in earnest. Hollering bloody murder, Remus slid all the way around to hang upside down by the crook of his left knee. As the blood rushed to his head and Madam Hooch hurried across the grass to rescue him, he saw James collapsing in hoots of laughter out of the corner of his eye and heard Sirius’s short, warm bark echoing in his roaring ears.

            “It’s no matter, Remus, dear,” Madam Hooch declared once Remus was firmly back on the ground. “You’ll just need to work on your balance. Do you happen to know if one of your legs is shorter than the other? We can have Madam Pomfrey take a look, if you’d like.”

            This, of course, had only served to make everyone laugh harder. After the incident, James had taken to calling him Lop-Leg Lupin, which the other Gryffindor first-years found endlessly funny _—“Bet you can’t say that five times fast!”_ —but, thank Merlin, everyone lost interest in the nickname after only a few days and it didn’t stick. And Remus never did ask Madam Pomfrey to check whether one of his legs was indeed shorter than the other.

            He now glared jokingly at Sirius over his goblet of pumpkin juice. “Yes,” he retorted. “Flying is a good skill to have and I don’t want to give up—but I also don’t want to practice in front of everyone, especially him.” He jerked his head toward James. “So, are you gonna help me or not?”

            Sirius shrugged, but Remus saw that his expression had perked up considerably. “Sure, I’m always up for flying. But it’s gonna be pretty cold out tomorrow—do you have one of those winter flying cloaks?”

            Remus shook his head, bemused. He didn’t know such a thing existed.

            “It’s fine, I’ll just nick one from James’s trunk,” Sirius said. “He has at least two.”

            “But won’t he notice?”

            Sirius smirked. “No. I think he’s decided to camp out in the library tomorrow and see if he can ambush an unsuspecting Evans.”

            “Madam Pince is going to kill him if he causes another commotion,” Remus muttered.

            “Madam who?” Sirius asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

            Remus snorted softly into his juice.

            The tall ceiling above them in the Great Hall began to snow, emitting fat white flakes that fluttered down onto their shoulders and landed in their soup bowls. Remus imagined himself outside the next morning—zooming through the snowflakes with Sirius, the two of them skillful, fast, and free on their brooms—and smiled. With the full moon nearly a whole cycle away, he felt strong and in good spirits. This semester was off to a very good start.

* * *

 

            Light snow was still falling in the morning. Remus and Sirius lingered in the dormitory after breakfast until James set off to the library, with eager wingman Peter trailing in his wake.

            Remus was insisting on the highest level of secrecy surrounding their mission, not because he thought James would care that they borrowed his clothes, but because he didn’t want to deal with the jokes and the dreaded resurrection of “Lop-Leg Lupin” that might follow. Remus was grateful that Sirius was discreet enough to say nothing to their dorm-mates. Of his three friends, Sirius was certainly the best choice for trusting with a secret.

            As they got dressed together in the quiet dormitory, Remus felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. The thrill of sharing a secret with a friend for the first time, the anticipation of learning to fly after so many years of it being forbidden to him—everything swirled together in an exhilarating cocktail that made his insides tingle. He’d never felt this way before.

            “This flying cloak blocks out all the wind—it’s amazing!” Remus exclaimed as they tromped across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch and the storage shack where the school brooms lived.

            “I think they’re made using the strongest shield charms. And once we get up in the air, you’ll be glad of it,” Sirius said. They reached the shack and Sirius brought out several brooms for Remus to try. “You never know which one might fit you the best,” he said sagely. “I have a favorite school broom I always use. The other ones just don’t feel the same.”

            Remus selected the first of the brooms and mounted it. But Sirius held up a hand.

            “Let’s practice just balancing on a broom first,” he instructed, his eyes dancing. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time. Hang onto my arm.” Remus complied, and Sirius took hold of his wrist so that the two boys were anchored firmly together. A few snowflakes drifted down onto their shoulders and entwined arms. “Now, give it a small kick, so you’re hovering just above the ground like Peter was. I’m anchoring you so you don’t drift away.”

            Remus practiced holding his broom handle steady, but it wasn’t easy at first. The broom seemed to slide underneath his hands, and Sirius lurched to and fro as he tried to counterbalance Remus’s erratic movements. Finally, though, after a few long minutes of struggle, Remus settled into a precarious equilibrium and Sirius was able to let go. He was even able to fly in a slow, shaky line across the grass. His toes brushed through the fresh snow that had fallen overnight.

            “Excellent,” Sirius declared, pleased. “Shall we see if you feel better on any of the other brooms?”

            Remus’s core muscles were sore from his laborious efforts at balancing by the time they selected the broom that felt best. It did seem most obedient to him, though it was far from a smooth ride. Only then did Sirius mount his own broom and instruct Remus to follow him as best as he could. They glided through the sparse flurries, still staying low to the ground, Sirius looking back over his shoulder to shout instructions and tips that Remus knew, for the most part, he had learned from James. As Sirius had predicted, the icy wind did seem stronger when they were in motion, and Remus was glad to have James’s cloak rather than his own threadbare one.

            “Why don’t we try going higher?” Remus called up to Sirius after awhile. “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

            Sirius guided his broom to a gentle halt, and Remus imitated him in a less graceful stop. “Okay, well, are you sure you’re ready?” Sirius asked.

            “Yeah, why?”

            Sirius seemed slightly abashed. “I dunno…I guess I thought you’d want to stay close to the ground. Since you’re so careful all the time.” He looked like he wanted to kick himself for saying the first thing that came to mind, something that happened frequently with Sirius. “No offense or anything, mate.”

            Remus shrugged and grinned. “Just because I don’t carry Dungbombs in my pockets or regularly end up covered in Stinksap doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun,” he remarked. “I want to see how high Quidditch players fly!”

            Sirius didn’t need telling twice. “Well, come on then!”

            As they climbed into the air, Remus mulled over what Sirius had said. He was right, of course, that Remus was a careful person. He’d been that way for as long as he could remember, partly because his furry condition—and his parents’ restrictions—made it necessary, but also partly because he didn’t like to take risks. He liked being safe, and making sure that nobody, including himself, got hurt. (His grandmother, whom he saw on holidays, often remarked that Remus had a caregiving nature that could make him a great Healer someday.)

            Well, that was one part of him, the familiar part. But there was another part, too, that had grown much stronger since coming to Hogwarts and meeting James, Sirius, and Peter. It was an urge to be reckless and carefree, like they were. Of course, Remus understood that he could never fully live as a normal boy, but day after day of witnessing his friends’ antics, often pulled along into the fray…it made him yearn to change.

            Not that someone could change their nature so easily. Even at eleven (almost twelve), Remus instinctively understood that it was impossible. He was still quiet and shy; he just admired those who weren’t. He was still a cautious person; he just wished he wasn’t. But he _was_ making progress. The warm exhilaration that still twisted and writhed in his belly now was proof enough of that.

            The last of the flurries had stopped falling at some point—Remus had not noticed when. The two boys soared around the Quidditch pitch, past the goalposts and above the rows of bleachers. Sirius tore through the air much faster than Remus trundled after him, but Remus didn’t mind. Sirius would often double back and loop around him, whooping and yelling encouragement. It made Remus happy, to watch Sirius like this: his limbs loose, his regal face entirely open, and his smile easy and real. And although his arms often shook and he occasionally wobbled, Remus didn’t fall off his broom once. It wasn’t quite the skillful, effortless ride he’d daydreamed about in the Great Hall last night, but it was pretty great.

            When it was time for lunch, they returned their borrowed brooms and headed back to the castle, their noses runny and their fingers red and numb with cold. Sirius seemed in good spirits for the first time since before the winter holidays, and Remus was nearly giddy with triumph. But they saw at once that something was wrong when they sat down for lunch at the Gryffindor table opposite Peter and James. Peter looked twitchier than ever, and a frown rippled across James’s face like a dark thundercloud. Neither of their friends even seemed to notice that they’d just come in from outside, for which Remus was grateful. He wanted the magic of sharing this secret with Sirius to last.

            Sirius ladled himself some hot soup and clutched the bowl to warm his hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked James.

            “Snivellus,” James growled, and offered nothing further.

            Peter piped in, “James went mental in the library! I barely got him out of there before something bad happened!”

            “What do you mean, ‘went mental’?” Sirius said warily.

            “Well, we wandered around in the stacks to see if Lily Evans was in there somewhere studying, and we _did_ find her, but she was with her Potions partner, that Slytherin bloke Snape—”

            “Greasy git,” James interrupted acidly. “He’s the one who’s mental, if you ask me. He’s a menace, and anyone who spends time with him is in danger.” 

            Peter wrung his hands. “See, he just keeps saying stuff like that, repeating himself over and over. But I don’t see why he’d be dangerous. He’s just a first-year.”

            “So you somehow restrained James from rushing over to Lily and telling her how dangerous her Potions partner supposedly is?” Remus guessed.

            Peter nodded. “I tried a Silencing Charm, but somehow I ended up filling his mouth with soap bubbles instead.” He shrugged. “It did the trick, though. He was too busy gagging and sputtering to fight me. I dragged him away right before Madam Pince came over to see what the noise was. Then I convinced him that he was in no shape to see Lily while foaming at the mouth, so we went to a bathroom to stop the bubbles, and by the time we got back, Lily and Snape were gone. Madam Pince probably assumed it was them who made the noise and kicked them out.”

            “I don’t know why she even gives him the time of day,” James spat. “He probably hides his sick habits from her, so she doesn’t know the twisted things he likes to do for fun, the freak.”

            Peter threw his hands up helplessly, but a look of comprehension dawned on Sirius’s face. “Oh,” he sighed. “I know what’s going on.”

            Remus listened as Sirius recounted in an undertone what he and James had discovered about Snape on Halloween night. By the end of the story, Peter’s watery blue eyes were as round as saucers. “So, you see, there _is_ reason to worry that Snape is dangerous,” Sirius finished. “But if Lily is friends with him, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do about it, short of warning her about what we saw.”

            “I do see her with him sometimes,” Remus admitted. “I think they’re pretty good friends.”

            “What?” James demanded. “You’ve seen them together before? When? Where? Why didn’t you say anything?”

            “Well, you’re never in the library much, and I’m always there, and so are they,” Remus said sheepishly. “And I dunno, I guess I just never brought it up.” In all honesty, he’d never brought it up for fear of James’s reaction to the news. “So I don’t think she would take it well if any of us told her. She’d think, you know…”

            “That we invented a story to break them up because of James,” Sirius supplied.

            Remus nodded. 

            James glowered at them, opening and closing his fists on top of the table. “Well, what do you suggest we do, then?” he said. “We can’t stand by and let her consort with a known psycho.”

            “Why don’t we all just keep an eye on them?” Remus reasoned. “Since they’re not in the same House, they can’t be together that often. Between the four of us, we can make sure she stays safe.”

            Sirius rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m signing up to help you stalk Lily Evans, but I agree with Remus.”

            Peter looked apprehensive about spying on someone who was “a known psycho,” but nodded. “I’m in, too.”

            James continued to protest for a while, itching for a fight, but by the end of lunch, he’d finally seen sense. Without definitive proof, neither Lily nor any of the teachers would believe that Snape experimented with errant, Dark activities. Plus, by keeping an eye on Snape and Lily, they could both increase their odds of catching Snape in the act _and_ learn more about Lily to help James woo her. (Remus had produced that particular argument and was especially proud of his artful persuasion.) In contrast, cursing Snape until his face resembled a troll—James’s original plan—wouldn’t keep him away from Lily for long. And besides, James didn’t even know enough spells yet to sustain a proper duel.

            “Fine,” James finally relented. “But I’m signing up for Dueling Club—I don’t care what you say. If I ever need to protect Lily, I want to be ready.”

            Remus decided this wasn’t the time to mention that Lily could protect herself just as well as James could. Feminism could wait until James was in a better mood. For now, Remus vowed to find Lily at the next Charms Club and encourage her to learn how to duel as well. He still remembered Dumbledore’s warning about dark and unsettling times, and it certainly couldn’t hurt to know how to fight.


	9. Slugged

           Once lessons were in full swing again, Sirius was swept back into the internal rhythm of Hogwarts and each week seemed to pass more quickly than the last.

           Most of his teachers followed the same pattern: assign a textbook reading, give a lecture, and then require an exam or essay on the same subject. It was a lot of work, but given the repetition, Sirius often understood and mastered the material long before he was tested on it.

           His dorm-mates, too, had fallen into a comfortable routine. Each of the boys had their favorite subjects and helped the others whenever needed. Peter did best at low-pressure subjects that required patience (and didn’t involve wand-work), such as Astronomy and Herbology. Remus was their resident Charms expert, but all four friends also relied heavily on his meticulous History of Magic notes. James took to Transfiguration particularly well; every now and then, just for the fun of it, he’d transfigure nearby objects into whatever thing popped into his mind first. Like the time when he transfigured Peter’s quill into a roasted chicken drumstick halfway through a Charms written exam…the look on Peter’s face—and on Professor Flitwick’s—was priceless.

           Sirius was happy to find that he and Remus shared an interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sirius’s best subject. They spent many a lazy evening by the common room fire, debating the finer points of Defense theory. Sirius often felt he learned more from a conversation with Remus than a whole hour of lecture in class, even with James lolling across from them in an armchair, making loud and pointed yawning noises.

           James did like Defense, but he was more interested in practicals than theory. He was now far ahead of the others in Defense spell-work, having attended every meeting since January of Dueling Club, which was run by the Defense teacher, Professor Desjardin. Apparently, James really was serious about learning to fight, as the self-appointed ringleader of the anti-Snape mission he’d christened the “Snivel Patrol.” The other boys stopped into Dueling Club sometimes, too, but none with as much commitment as James. Peter seemed altogether uninterested in fighting and mostly tagged along to watch.

           During one Dueling Club meeting in late February, Lily poked her head into the room just as they were starting to learn the Stinging Hex. Sirius watched as she gave Remus a friendly wave, but then caught sight of James standing next to him and ducked right back out the door again. Sirius wasn’t surprised. Lily remained annoyed at James for his unsolicited Valentine’s Day present—which involved accompanying her around in the corridors for the entire day, belting out a “bad little ditty” about how “Evans is so pretty.”

           “He’s so immature!” she’d complained loudly in between every jaunty verse. “I don’t understand why everyone thinks he’s so funny!”

           “Oh, lighten up, Lily, you have no sense of humor,” Colin Prestwich had commented.

           “I think that’s why he picks on you,” Samantha Jordan had pointed out.

           But Lily did not buy this argument. She refused to laugh at any of James’s jokes and showed him only a strained politeness whenever she was forced to interact with him. Sirius could tell she was trying her best to avoid him, but she found only limited success because of the Snivel Patrol: James was adamant that they continue to lurk around near Lily, especially when she was with Snape.

           For the first month or two, Sirius, Remus, and Peter complied with their Snivel Patrol duties, trying their best to appear nonchalant and wondering whether or not Lily noticed their increased presence around her. But they soon became tired of spying when they found no proof that Snape intended to harm Lily in any way. In fact, their observations had confirmed Remus’s suspicions that Snape and Lily were good friends. Snape seemed to care a lot about her, sometimes delighting her with quirky charms or helping her carry books if she checked too many out from the library at once. From listening in on a conversation between a few first-year girls, they learned that Snape and Lily had grown up in the same neighborhood and knew each other before Hogwarts.

           All of this frustrated James to no end. He remained convinced of Snape’s malicious intentions despite the lack of evidence, and although his three friends eventually dropped out of “this wild goose chase,” as Remus put it, James continued. He began to follow Lily around more persistently, Snape or no Snape. (Sirius suspected Snape had little to do with it anymore.) The Snivel Patrol was now a one-man mission.

           As February turned into March, the winter slowly became a wet spring. When the weather was good, Sirius went flying fairly often, as both James and Remus now sought him as a flying buddy (although, for the latter, this continued to be a secret). The fresh air helped to clear his head. When it rained, Sirius passed the time indoors, playing card games and bickering cheerfully with Peter about whose favorite professional Quidditch team was doing better in the league.

           He also spent rainy evenings exploring the castle with James, who just couldn’t sit still for long. These days, they pushed their luck farther and farther past curfew, delving into remote corridors at James’s insistence. Apparently, James’s father had had too much mulled mead over Christmas and divulged to James a number of Hogwarts legends he’d heard as a student: stories of haunted bathrooms, passageways behind statues, and wormholes that devoured students in one corridor and spat them out, days later, in another. Now James was determined to discover all the castle’s secrets, no matter how many times he narrowly escaped capture by Filch. And Sirius was only too happy to chase thrills with him. It was the best way for Sirius to avoid the dark thoughts of Grimmauld Place that kept popping up in his mind, especially as the months went by without a single letter from his parents.

           In late March, all the Gryffindor first-years threw a combined birthday party for Remus and James with cake, firecrackers, and Exploding Snap in the common room. Sirius was pleased to see that the other Gryffindors were finally warming up to him, now that they realized he had no intention of treating them poorly just because he was a Black. The other boys in his year sometimes chatted with Sirius at mealtimes or invited him to study together, and he had a standing game of Wizard’s chess against Casey Wood every Tuesday night.

            It was funny how these things worked. Just as the House of Black felt less and less like home to Sirius, Hogwarts was beginning to feel more and more like home.

* * *

            One April afternoon after their combined Potions lesson, Professor Slughorn paused at the classroom door as the Gryffindors and Slytherins began to file out. “Mr. Black, Ms. Evans, and Mr. Snape,” he said. Slughorn’s tone was warm and his expression rather conspiratorial. “Please wait here a moment. I’d like to speak with you.”

           Sirius looked up from packing his schoolbag, startled, and locked eyes with James. James appeared just as confused as Sirius felt—what could Slughorn want? It was possible that Sirius was in trouble, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong recently, and besides, it was unlikely that _Lily_ had ever broken a rule in her life.

           James reluctantly left the classroom without Sirius, casting angry glances at the table where Lily remained seated next to Snape.

           Slughorn closed the door behind the last of the other students before declaring jovially, “I have very good news for you three. You are being offered something every Hogwarts student hopes for: an invitation to my party this Saturday. You may have heard of this group: my regulars affectionately dub it ‘the Slug Club.’” He chuckled, clearly enjoying the name. “This is a fantastic opportunity for a young witch or wizard. Many delightful and, dare I say, _important_ people will be attending. Now, I don’t make a habit of inviting many first-years, but I believe you three do fit the bill. I only invite the brightest and most promising of students, you see.”

           Sirius could feel Snape’s sullen gaze on him, and tried not to fidget.

           “For instance, Ms. Evans,” Slughorn continued, smiling warmly at Lily, “your essay on the moral implications of harvesting unicorn blood was the most thoughtful and well-written one I’ve seen in decades of students. With your permission, I’d like to submit it to a Potions journal for publication. And please, my dear, when you’re the top magical theorist of your generation, you’ll be sure not to forget your old Professor Slughorn, won’t you?”

           Lily nodded, flushed with delight.

           “And Mr. Snape, your performance in Potions, including your extra credit work, has been consistently outstanding. I’ve never seen a first-year produce such flawless Potions work at the fourth-year level. I expect great things from you, young man. Perhaps one day, you’ll run an apothecary unlike any other in Europe, and special orders will start pouring in from Morocco to Denmark to Greece, and beyond. Quite a profitable business that would be, wouldn’t it!” Slughorn exclaimed.

           Snape ducked his head, but Sirius caught a ghost of a smile on his thin lips before his greasy curtain of hair obscured his face.

           “And Mr. Black.” Sirius turned from Snape to see Slughorn regarding him oddly, as he often did. It still made Sirius uncomfortable after so many months. “I believe you’ll find many of your relatives and family friends among the esteemed list of Slug Club members from over the years. Admittedly, none of them has ever been in Gryffindor House before. Quite curious, that is, my boy. But every single Black who has passed through my classroom has done remarkably for his- or herself, and with such good blood running through your veins, I’m sure you are no exception. I am proud to have the opportunity to educate yet another member of your fine family, and I wait eagerly to see what’s in store for you.”

           Sirius wriggled in his seat, feeling sick to his stomach. Somewhere to his left, he heard Snape emit a soft, almost imperceptible snort. “Thank you, sir,” Sirius said through gritted teeth.

           “So, it’s settled then!” Slughorn exclaimed. “I’ll see you three in my office on Saturday night at six. Don’t eat any supper beforehand—we’ll have plenty of food you won’t want to miss!”

           He’d barely escorted them out into the corridor and closed the classroom door behind them before Lily squealed and began jumping up and down, clutching Snape by the shoulders. “Oh, can you believe it? The Slug Club—as first-years! This is so amazing!”

           Snape allowed Lily to pull him into a big hug, and Sirius was appalled to see his pasty face break into a brittle grin. The expression looked weird on him, grotesque, as if his face muscles weren’t used to stretching in that direction. The hug went on for several seconds and Sirius thought he saw Snape press his face into her hair, which made Sirius’s stomach churn even harder.

           Snape must have noticed Sirius watching, because he pulled away the next instant and snarled, “What are you looking at?”

           Lily turned around. “Congratulations, Sirius!” she said warmly. “Isn’t this wonderful news for all of us?”

           “Yes _congratulations, Sirius_ ,” Snape imitated with a sneer. “Congratulations on being born with two arms and two legs, and not getting shite on your fingers when you wipe. You should pat yourself on the back, you really earned it.”

           Sirius glared at him. He wasn’t sure why Snape was being so vicious just now. Maybe he disliked Sirius for being friends with James, whose Snivel Patrol activities were becoming more and more obnoxious. Maybe he was embarrassed at being caught experimenting with Dark magic so many months ago, or still scared that Sirius and James would report him to the teachers for it. Or maybe he hated Sirius for simply being there, in that moment, to see him sniff Lily’s hair and grin when she hugged him.

           “Sev, that’s not nice!” Lily exclaimed. “You should apologize.”

           Snape snorted loudly.

           “You know, you should really get that snorting problem checked out,” Sirius snapped, irritated. “A nose of that size, who knows what they’ll find lodged up there.”

           Snape’s eyes were cold with fury, and he took a step toward Sirius and raised his wand.

           Sirius felt his temper rising, a ball of fire clogging up his chest. So many years of good breeding had taught him to always swallow it back down, to always be polite, but lately Sirius had been feeling less and less well bred, to tell the truth. “Oh, are you looking for a duel, Snivellus?” he taunted. “Better be careful not to slip in your own grease puddles.”

           Snape looked even angrier at the mention of James’s nickname for him.

           “Sirius, please stop it,” Lily insisted, trying to step in-between them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He didn’t mean it. Just let it go, won’t you?”

           “I did mean it,” Snape said at once. “People make such a big sodding deal over his bloodline, but he’s a mediocre wizard who gets things handed to him when he doesn’t deserve them.”

           “Don’t do this, Severus,” Lily begged.

           But Snape pushed on. “Well, let me tell you, Black, no matter who your mummy and daddy are, you can only get so far in life as an immature, brainless bugger, running around with your immature, brainless bugger friends, like that arrogant imbecile Potter!”

           “Hey!” Sirius shouted, sidestepping Lily and shoving Snape, hard. “Don’t talk about my friends that way!”

           Snape stumbled and caught himself against the corridor wall, but he dropped his wand and it clattered across the floor. Lily looked on, white-faced. She kept glancing frantically at the classroom doors around them, obviously wondering if she should run and get a teacher.

           Snape looked Sirius straight in the eye as Sirius approached him. “Thinking about hitting me, are you, Black?” he whispered nastily. “You’ll just prove my point. Muggle fighting is dirty, graceless. If that’s all you can do, you’re just like all the other worthless Gryffindors – all brawn, not a shred of brain. Your father would be really proud.”

           Lily screamed as Sirius’s fist connected with Snape’s face. Snape struggled to get free, but Sirius had pushed him up against the wall and shook him violently by the front of his robes, refusing to let go. A small part of Sirius’s brain registered Lily’s cries for help, Snape shouting at Lily to hand him his wand, Lily’s sobbing refusal of “No, you’ll get in trouble.” But most of his brain was engulfed in anger. It felt good to let his temper out fully, like he’d never quite done before. His disgust at Snape, his shame at the reason for Slughorn’s invitation, his sorrow at receiving the silent treatment from his family, his frustration at how their narrow-minded worldviews had backed him into a corner…

           The blast of a spell forced him apart from Snape. Professor Slughorn had come out of his classroom to investigate the noise and it was his invisible shield spell that now kept Sirius at bay. Lily stood at Slughorn’s elbow, trying to explain the situation through her tears. Slughorn was talking—chastising the boys for fighting, no doubt—but Sirius couldn’t really concentrate on his words. All he could hear was the roar in his ears.

           It seemed that Saturday night, instead of attending the Slug Club, he’d be attending his first detention.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first work on AO3 and I'm so excited to become part of this community! I love me a good light-handed WolfStar romance/friendship fic and I'm happy to share mine with you. It would make my day if you leave a comment and let me know what you think. You can also find me on fanfiction.net under the same penname. Cheers!


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